


RED

by iexoeris



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Archery, Childhood Friends, Enemies, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Humor, Love, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Mpreg, Read it you wont regret trust me, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Synesthesia, artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 86,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iexoeris/pseuds/iexoeris
Summary: Just take a leap, little bird, fly away…to tomorrow.Fallen King of Archery, Byun Baekhyun, pregnant and dumped is given shelter by his nemesis, Park Chanyeol, an artist who's trying to make it. In between their history, love, pain, reality and hopeless dreams, they paint colours on the skies and love on the ground.It all started with a thorn and a rose.It all started with the red.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 157
Kudos: 624
Collections: #BabyMakingFest2019





	1. 2 years ago

**Author's Note:**

> BMF PROMPT #194
> 
> Pairing: Baekhyun/Chanyeol
> 
> Carrier: Baekhyun
> 
> Pregnancy: Pre/during pregnancy
> 
> Babies: Only one
> 
> Prompt: Impregnated and dumped by his boyfriend, Baekhyun has nowhere to go. Out of all people, he doesn’t expect the man whom he hates the most, his rival (Chanyeol), to take him in.
> 
> Author's Note: This fic has consumed my existence. After writing this, I'm just a useless bird spiraling in a vortex. I am proud of this. I wish you'd take the time to read this. There are many symbolic representations of many things. Other than that, PAT I'M SO THANKFUL WITHOUT YOU THIS WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN DONE YOU KEPT ME AWAKE AND I LOVE YOU AND I LOVE YOU AND YOU'RE AMAZING WE ACTUALLY DID THIS YOU'RE STILL BOTH THEIR GUARDIANS. THANK YOU. TO THE READERS, I LOVE YOU.
> 
> Also my twitter is iexoeris

#  Two years ago

Prim.

_ Proper. _

Men and women clad in black suits and designer cocktail dresses moved around the room, constant confident smiles on their faces, hands positioned properly, accents perfect as they communicated and negotiated with each other. Ringed and jeweled hands held expensive glasses filled with fine wine or soft drinks and socked feet shuffled around, some wearing heels and clattering against the ground. Smells of cologne and perfumes, new dresses and stuffy coats, along with the tangy smell of alcohol and steak wafted throughout the room. There was a sort of eased tension in the air hidden under the polite smiles, caused by the hidden contempt most of them had for each other.

After all, this was a family business party.

And while, there  _ were _ some friends in there, most were rivals.

A tall guy with large ears bowed politely to a middle-aged lady, smiling as he let go of his mother’s arm while excusing himself. The lady smiled – but it was too big and wide to be natural. It wasn’t the lady’s fault though. As a lady from a very high and prosperous family, wife of one of the biggest businessmen ever, and a featured and popular artist herself, she couldn’t possibly be expected to smile genuinely at the thought of someone else – a rookie artist, barely legal - trying to get his art up there in an art gallery of extremely high prestige. She also couldn’t comprehend why the mother of said rookie was so casual about this, laughing in front of her with dark, deep lipstick smudged on her lips – as if she thought it was nothing serious. Maybe, it wasn’t. But the child had seemed pretty serious.

But then again, she had never really understood “casual” families like theirs. Her own son, a renowned archer, was constantly working towards his goal to stand in the Olympic fields. His dreams…weren’t casual or impromptu. And they weren’t treated as such either. She smirked. Nobody in this room could compete with her in terms of the success of their children.

The tall boy walked towards the bathroom, the smile slipping off his face quickly, as he thought about how much contempt and disregard that lady had been harboring for him. He didn’t really understand people like her – people so conceited, close-minded and success-driven. His family was a far better contrast.

But for some reason, the look in her eyes when he told her that he was an artist too kept replaying in his mind. She had looked surprised, as if she couldn’t possibly believe that he wanted to get his art in the Hyundai Gallery, as if he wasn’t worthy enough to dream of that. She had made him feel small and insecure, and she had made his family seem foolish.

He didn’t like her or her oh-so-perfect, talented and rich family.

People moved past him in a blur, smiling at him, and gaining a stretched smile back.

Until  _ he  _ came. The tall guy was broken from his daze because  _ he _ wasn’t smiling. He was smirking; victorious. His back was straight, and even though he was shorter, he seemed bigger, as if he held the moon in his hands. The tall guy felt immediate hate rise from the pit of his stomach. One day, he will make sure that these people will be below him…

_ He  _ brushed past him, shoulders rubbing intentionally, not failing to step up on his toes and whisper in his ear –

“Was my mother too realistic again, Park?”

The guy in question grunted, “No, Byun, she just has no hope. Kind of like you.”

A smile. A huff. A glint. A glare.

And they both walked away, far from each other, in their respective safe vicinities until they could stop and allow the sadness to seep into their hearts; the utter pain and pressure.

_ The world is realistic… _

_ The world has no hope… _

But both kept smiling throughout the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter - iexoeris


	2. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this!

#  1

Rain splattered against the glass window of the ornate, dimly lit hall. People chattered and laughed in the background. Faint sounds of heels clapping against the floor, glasses clinking and jewels tinkering came his way. It was all so… pale blue. There was nothing really interesting about it, yet, for some unknown reason, it was saddening.

“Oh, Chanyeol!” A familiar, but not necessarily welcomed, voice exclaimed. Chanyeol turned away from the windows, where he had been admiring the curve of the water drops that stuck to the glass pane, and instead faced the sturdy man in front of him.

“Baekbeom,” He smiled, bowing a little to show respect to the CFO of the Byun Stars - a rival of his father’s own company, Park Ambience, where his elder sister Yoora was headed for the CFO position. She was a very business-driven person, unlike Chanyeol.

“Been a long time since I last saw you,” He grinned, “How’s uni?”

Chanyeol shrugged, “Studio Arts is quite laid-back honestly. I don’t have that much to do. It’s chill.”

Baekbeom smiled nicely, “I’ve seen your artworks. They are anything but ‘chill’, if you ask me.”

Chanyeol blushed at that. His artworks were really…passionate, one could say. Most of them depicted angsty hard metal songs, hence why they had a lot of red splattered around, lined by big black strokes thrown in between.

“Yeah, I guess…” He said awkwardly, before changing the subject, “What about you? How are things going?”

He smiled; worriedly, “Ah, well, it’s all pretty normal, you know. Work, meetings, home – repeat. Very monochromatic.”

“Spectrum by Florence and the Machine,” Chanyeol whispered.

Baekbeom blinked, “What?”

Chanyeol waved a hand, “Oh no, nothing. How’s family?” He changed the subject.

Baekbeom smiled tightly and Chanyeol realized it was a dangerous issue. He wanted to say something like ‘you don’t have to answer’ but that would just make things worse, so all he could do was wait.

“Well, you know, just… good.”

Chanyeol gave a fake smile and nodded, and then Yoora called out their names, striding towards them in an elegant black dress. Baekbeom nodded at Chanyeol, excusing himself as he moved to talk to her and Chanyeol breathed out in relief.

He shouldn’t have mentioned that when he knew about the numerous rumors surrounding the Byuns. Countless rumors, and all of them tied around one person, who was absent from this dull ambience. Chanyeol’s rival, and the person he genuinely disliked – Byun Baekhyun, the renowned archer and the youngest son of the Byuns.

Baekhyun was always there, in all these family events, until he wasn’t. Starting from last year, it seemed like he had just disappeared. He was never there at his family’s mansion and the Byuns refused to answer any questions about him. Nobody could get a hold of Baekhyun. It was obvious that the family had had a fall-out, and a serious one at that. A fall-out big enough for the Byuns to dismiss their precious baby, their renowned, popular and perfect son - it must have been huge.

But, well, he might not have been  _ that  _ perfect after all.

But as Chanyeol looked at the ambience of the boring and muted meeting, in the palest shade of blue, he realised that he missed the little guy, because of whom these meetings had always been red.

Chanyeol walked out of the basement of his apartment complex. The knotted tie around his neck felt tight and restricting so he put his deft fingers to work and loosened it slightly. He sighed as fresh night air went down his chapped lungs. The smell of damp trees, soil and mud was enough to make him forget about the clink and clatter of heels, glasses of wine and newly bought dresses. They were two entirely different worlds. One had the raw purity that people needed and the other had the artificial ambience that they required. One made them feel small, surrounding them with things bigger than them, bigger than life, and the other made them feel big, providing them with luxuries and status, fooling them into believing they were bigger than the world. One was realistic and the other was ideal; and that was why people preferred the second.

It was safe to say Chanyeol preferred the former.

His footsteps sunk a little in the wet mud of the small park, filling up his apartment complex. There were many colleges around and hence, most of the apartments in the area were filled with college students.

Chanyeol made his way towards his building, stepping off the edge of the park when he stopped in his tracks. His eyes landed on a lone silhouette, surrounded by moonlight, sitting on the wet park bench. The figure was wearing a hoodie that looked drenched from the rain. As Chanyeol walked closer, he saw a long, scary, rod-type thing next to him. It made him halter his step for a moment, before he realized it was a bow and those long things that they put on Olympic bows. The bow and arrows reminded him of someone – someone he didn’t really like. Red.

Unexpected things are less surprising than obvious things – and that was probably why Chanyeol didn’t even let the thought cross his mind. And that was also why he stood frozen as he looked down at  _ him. _

“Baekhyun?” His voice sounded bewildered. That was probably the last guy he had expected to see at the park outside of his apartment complex, right after a business meeting, in which the smaller should have been present but wasn’t. 

The figure looked up, and his face was different. It had been a long time since they had last met and he looked very different from what Chanyeol remembered, but it was  _ him.  _ And Chanyeol was  _ not _ glad to see him.

“Park,” Baekhyun said, standing up. His voice was weak and shaken. Chanyeol looked at him,  _ really  _ looked at him and realised that something was different. His eyes were red and swollen, his face was pale and there was something different about his face. It was more mature than Chanyeol remembered, more defined. His small body was encased in a large practice hoodie and his bow was in his hand next to him, with his quiver on his back.

Everything was drenched.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, scanning Baekhyun again and again. There was something about him that was just…changed. Something different. His face radiated this  _ maturity _ and pensiveness and he somehow looked stronger, even though he also looked like he could pass out from the cold at any moment.

“I’m…waiting.” Baekhyun chose his words carefully.

“For?” Chanyeol asked, although it kind of looked like he was waiting for his demise.

“…help,” He said, his eyes darting around, but there was nobody around the area. It was late at night, and it was a rainy day. Contrary to popular belief, not all college students were nocturnal party animals. Some of them were really just in dire need of sleep, “Someone that I know.”

His answers weren’t helping at all. Chanyeol didn’t even know why he was interested, but if Baekhyun was waiting out in the rain, it had to be serious. In Chanyeol’s eyes, Baekhyun was spoilt, and he loved his comfort and luxury.

So this was the most unlike-Baekhyun thing to do.

“Well, you know me...” Chanyeol pointed out, “Am I the one you’re waiting for?”

For a moment Chanyeol was scared. Baekhyun looked like he might have actually said  _ yes, _ but then he frowned in distaste, “No, not you. You hate me.”

Chanyeol shrugged. Fair enough. He started to leave, as Baekhyun wasn’t wrong after all. Looking at the shorter man, all he felt was distaste and this unpleasant feeling, and he was sure his emotions were reciprocated.

Which is why he was utterly shocked when a small hand grabbed onto the hem of his suit-jacket, “Wait!”

Perhaps unexpected and expected things are equally surprising, after all…

Chanyeol stopped and turned back, “What is it?” He asked, annoyed, unlike a gentleman. Baekhyun’s eyes had this lost look in them, as if he was hopeless.

“Can I stay with you for the night?”

Chanyeol’s eyebrows reached his hairline, “Uhm… _ why?” _

Baekhyun played with the string of his bow, “See…I- uh – I don’t really have a place to stay.” He looked up sheepishly.

Chanyeol gave him a look, “Last time I checked, you lived in one of the biggest mansions in this country.”

Baekhyun shrugged, “Well, then you must have checked about two years ago. I got kicked out.”

Chanyeol’s unmasked surprise burst out of him. 

“ _ What?” _

“You heard me..”

“But you-  _ Why?” _

“Some things happened…”

_ “Like?” _ Chanyeol was  _ absolutely gone.  _ Nothing, no reason in his mind could explain  _ why _ Byun Baekhyun, the sweet son of Byun Stars, was homeless and seeking shelter from  _ him, his worst enemy. _

Baekhyun sighed tiredly, his unrelaxed drooping shoulders, the spent look on his face, and the dark circles under his eyes, along with the bandages around his hand – that Chanyeol had just noticed – making Chanyeol stop from questioning him further. He figured the shorter must have had a bad day, so he just said –

“You know what? You look like you’re going to collapse any second now-”

“I am. I seriously am,” Baekhyun let out with some difficulty and Chanyeol didn’t miss the way in which his knees shook, or the way in his eyes lolled a little and he steadied himself by holding on to the bench.

“Oh-oh, okay,” Chanyeol said, stepping forward and grabbing Baekhyun’s arm and putting it around his shoulders. The guy was  _ completely drenched  _ and the water was completely wetting Chanyeol’s suit, “Let’s just get you home first.”

And it was as if those words were a lullaby, because in an instant, Baekhyun’s body went limp in his arms, against him, and he was out, leaving Chanyeol with his half-dead nemesis and a very expensive bow and arrow set.

“Shit,” Chanyeol cursed, dragging the boy to his house.

Soft acoustic music played in the background through his installed speakers. It had been two hours since he brought Baekhyun to his house. The archer had thankfully gained consciousness after sitting on the couch and drinking some salty water and Chanyeol had turned on the heaters so that Baekhyun would stop shivering. He wasn’t inhumane after all.

Baekhyun had then gone to change his clothes and take a hot shower, and now the shorter male was sitting on the couch, comfortably, like a cat, as Chanyeol heated some left-over food from his lunch. There was a tense silence surrounding them, as if something was going to break. And yet there was this…shallow misery in the air.

The music helped. The lyrics didn’t.

It was way too relatable.

And as Chanyeol carried the tray over to Baekhyun, who was looking at something that Chanyeol couldn’t see, eyes lost, tired and defeated, he could tell that Baekhyun felt what Chanyeol was feeling too.

“It” wasn’t a fleeting feeling, or an emotion.

It was a lifestyle.

Of being tired, scared and trying your best to stay positive even when you don’t know what the fuck is going on around you.

“Thank you,” Baekhyun said when the food was presented in front of him, but he made no move to eat. Chanyeol didn’t really care that much, so he just let him be. Still, there was this unpleasant feeling building in his chest. Even though this was his house and Baekhyun was the one in a bad situation, he felt small. Intimidated. Because even though Baekhyun looked lost, the bandages on his hands showed that he had been practicing  _ hard.  _ And Chanyeol knew that once this mood of his subsided, he’d be back to fighting all his troubles, one by one, with dead accuracy and power – just like he shot the arrows towards the target. 

They stayed in an uncomfortable silence for a little while, before Chanyeol spoke up, “So, I’m guessing you did not come here to grace me with your presence.”

“No,” Baekhyun looked at him, “You know I don’t like you. At all.”

“You know this is my house, right? And I can kick you out whenever I want to?” Chanyeol rolled his eyes.

Baekhyun sighed, “Sorry,” but then he added, “I guess the truth always gets out, though, huh?”

Chanyeol glared at him; but he was too tired to show contempt towards anyone as of that moment, so he just leaned back and asked, “Why are you here anyways, looking like the embodiment of disaster?”

Because Baekhyun looked exactly like disaster. When Chanyeol had brought him in and observed him for any injuries or something like that, he’d been spooked by the man’s face. His eyes looked dead – red, teary and black - and his lips looked bitten. Everything about him just looked…hurt. The rain had washed his tear tracks away, but Chanyeol knew that, weren’t it for the rain, Baekhyun would have looked like he had been through some… illegal stuff.

The dead eyes looked at him now, and it almost seemed like he wasn’t going to answer when he said, “You know, if anybody else asked me that, I wouldn’t have answered.”

Chanyeol just kept looking at him, waiting.

And then Baekhyun shrugged, shaking his head, “But it’s you and you’ve already seen my ugly side. It’s not like I have anything more to lose, after all.” A chuckle and then a pause. “And... somehow, I get this sick satisfaction knowing that I’m going to disgust you even more by telling you what happened.” And then he looked at Chanyeol; eyes emotionless; head tilted to the side, “It doesn’t make any sense but I’m all up for it.”

_ All the kids are depressed, _

_ Nothing ever makes sense _

The song seemed ironically true. They were only nineteen-year-old kids after all.

Chanyeol leaned forward, letting Baekhyun know he was waiting.

“I’m gay,” Baekhyun started, bravely. Chanyeol raised his eyebrows, remembering all the times that the Byun family had made rude homophobic comments, and Baekhyun had just stood there; like a saint, smiling.

He didn’t say anything.

“Also,” Baekhyun said, averting his eyes for a moment –  _ composing himself  _ – before he let out, “I moved in with my boyfriend. He wasn’t exactly liked by my family, so I got sort of kicked out but now…it’s  _ worse.” _

“What happened?”

Baekhyun breathed in and Chanyeol knew this was serious, “They, my parents, they want to– They have been  _ trying  _ to legally disown me.”

Chanyeol’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Baekhyun had troubled him a lot. Baekhyun hated him. He hated Baekhyun. But…but he couldn’t  _ help  _ but feel absolutely  _ broken  _ as he heard about all this. There were some new laws in Korea about this and Baekhyun  _ was  _ an adult, but… _ nineteen wasn’t old enough for this kind of shit.  _ His heart went out to the archer in front of him. He wanted to help him, but this was way too serious. He had no control over this. He knew the Byuns were freaks but this –  _ all of this –  _ was too much.

“Just because– just because you’re gay?” Chanyeol asked. His surprise was obvious. His hurt was obvious. The unfairness he felt in his heart was obvious.

Baekhyun shook his head, and he said in a low voice, “There’s things _ worse _ than being gay, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol frowned. He didn’t really agree. The homosexual laws had just come around to Korea and while it wasn’t illegal to be homosexual, the people were horrible. The society… was horrible. The way they got treated was horrible.

It was the worst thing ever.

But Baekhyun, here, insisted that there was something worse than that.

And he didn’t have a clue what it was.

Baekhyun’s eyes were filled with tears,  _ actual tears.  _ Chanyeol wanted to put them in a test tube and see if that’s some acid which was going to blow things up, because he had  _ never  _ seen Byun Baekhyun cry. No one had. And knowing Baekhyun, his tears were probably some sort of weapon, or something dangerous.

But as they fell, Chanyeol realized just why they were dangerous.

They were the after-products of a broken kid after all.

“I –  _ I’m fucking pregnant,” _ He sobbed, and Chanyeol’s world put itself on pause. A multitude of things just…paused, before somebody started them again, and thought after thought crashed down in his head.  _ The  _ Byun Baekhyun was gay.  _ The  _ Byun Baekhyun was pregnant.  _ The  _ Byun Baekhyun was a  _ carrier.  _ Being a male carrier was never good, never something people wanted. In some places, it was something people could set you on fire for. And in a family like the Byuns – dark, stoic, conservative and old fashioned – it was pretty much the end of the world. Suddenly, it made sense that Baekhyun got kicked out, but the more Chanyeol thought about it, the more issues he found. Getting kicked out wasn’t Baekhyun’s only problem. He was fucking nineteen! It was a legal age, yes, but that didn’t change the fact that the boy in front of him was a  _ child.  _ And a professional archer at that. His eyes widened as he realized the odds.

“Okay,” He breathed out, trying to find a bright side but only thinking of more issues, “Okay, but why do you need a space to stay? What about your boyfriend…” And that's when Chanyeol realized; his eyes blowing wider than before, “Baekhyun, don’t tell me he…”

“He dumped me,” Baekhyun sniffed, confirming Chanyeol’s thoughts, “When we discovered it about a week ago, he said he was okay with it. And so when my parents got to know and reacted in  _ that  _ manner, and talked to their lawyers, I was okay. Because, at least I had  _ him _ , you know? But then today…I told him I needed to get a check-up and he – he just – he’s a  _ coward,”  _ Baekhyun snarled, “He said he lost me when the baby came.”

Baekhyun sobbed – the ugliest of all – and Chanyeol felt confused; conflicted. He sat back, leaning against his expensive couch, without many important problems in his life - not as important and pressing as Baekhyun’s, anyway - and his rival sat in front of him, taking cover in his house, tired, sick and dumped with a baby inside him. Baekhyun was currently below him and Chanyeol was in a better situation.

Just how he had always wanted it to be.

But he didn’t feel the happiness he’d thought he’d feel. Because this was Baekhyun losing to his fate – to his sick family, to his idiotic boyfriend, to the life within him and to himself. This wasn’t Baekhyun losing to Chanyeol.

And that hurt even more for some reason.

“It should be okay... one day,” Chanyeol said at a loss for words. He didn’t know who those words were meant for though – for him, or for his archenemy. Both needed things to be fine, anyway.

All Chanyeol knew is that, even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

_ 'Cause all the kids are depressed _

_ Nothing ever makes sense _

_ I'm not feeling alright _

_ Staying up 'til sunrise _

_ And hoping shit is okay _

_ Pretending we know things _

_ I don't know what happened _

_ My natural reaction is that we're scared _

_ So I guess we're scared _

Chanyeol woke up, feeling the soft rays of the most probably beautiful sunrise painting his room. The early morning breeze that wafted through the windows was pleasant and fresh, but Chanyeol didn’t really feel that fresh. On the contrary, he felt really tired…and not that great. He didn’t think he had slept a lot – how could he, when so many things had been occupying his mind?

But the sun was up.

Suddenly, lyrics played in his mind –

_ Together, we’re losers, remember the future, _

_ Remember the mornin’ is when night is dead _

For Chanyeol, he was only getting deeper into his night – in a place where the morning seemed far…far away.

He got up from his bed.

Seeing Baekhyun at his dining table was weird. The archer had slept on Chanyeol’s comfortable couch, since there was only one other room in the house and that was filled with paint buckets and paintings. The smell could be nauseating for some – especially for people like Baekhyun.

“You’re up early,” Chanyeol commented, moving across the table to the counter to heat up some of the left-over pizza he’d got last afternoon. Looking at Baekhyun, Chanyeol realized it probably wasn’t the healthiest food for a pregnant male – or any other person really.

“Umm… I have no idea what I’m going to feed you,” Chanyeol admitted, opening his fridge, which was more than empty, packed with a few breezers and coke, the pizza and some fruits that Chanyeol had never touched, along with some things he had never bothered to find out about.

Baekhyun glared at him pointedly, before moving across the table and grabbing a bottle of green apple yogurt, “This looks healthy enough,” He said, turning it back to check the expiration date, “Hm, I guess it won’t kill me.”

Chanyeol sighed, “That’s sad.”

Baekhyun glared at him once more, but Chanyeol just shrugged –

“You should be thankful for my hospitality,” He pointed out. The archer hardened his jaw –

“I guess.”

Chanyeol was surprised at how Baekhyun didn’t make any ruder remarks. He honestly expected a long, derogatory conversation to be followed but he figured Baekhyun was grateful. Or maybe he just didn’t want to waste his time. He certainly seemed to be eating the yogurt hurriedly.

“Are you going somewhere?” Chanyeol asked.

Baekhyun nodded, pointing to the couch where his bow lay – polished better than ever, and arrows stacked neatly in their quiver, “I’m going to train.”

Chanyeol frowned, “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m aware.”

“Shouldn’t you take some time off?” Chanyeol suggested, “Like – I don’t know – nine months and then a few more months.”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, “You’re so…unrealistic.”  _ There it was – that word,  _ “I’m only like three weeks pregnant and the World Archery Competitions are in three months .  _ And  _ the Olympics are next year, in July.”

Chanyeol drew back, “Wait,” He said, “You’re telling me you’re  _ actually aiming for the Olympics when you’re pregnant?” _

A muscle twitched in Baekhyun’s face, “Yes. My delivery should be in about November. Olympics start in late July, next year. That’s enough time to recover for me.”

Chanyeol was  _ bewildered.  _ He couldn’t stop frowning –

“Just get an abortion.” Chanyeol said; his voice coming out a little high pitched. When he’d heard Baekhyun was pregnant, he’d been sure that this meant he was tossing his career aside. He had  _ not  _ expected this. He surely couldn’t continue archery and pregnancy at the same time – it was just…never done before. An abortion was the only way out.

But Baekhyun’s face softened; his eyes were cast downwards and when he spoke, all that escaped his lips was a little whisper, but in the dead silence, it was clear enough –

“ _ No…” _

There was a storm that afternoon. Chanyeol sat in his house, without much to do.

Well, he was lying.

Because currently, he was sitting in his studio. His paint brushes swished and slashed around on a pure white canvass. There was a song in his head – it has been there since the previous night. The same song blasted around the room, and Chanyeol tried his best to copy the image in his head onto the canvas. It was a dark purple song. Chanyeol didn’t really have that color. He didn’t use it much, so he was stuck mixing colors because there was no way he was going out in this weather to buy it. The song was fast-paced, making the strokes a little quick, quirky and angsty.

He was more than half done with the painting when he realized what he had drawn. A splash of dark, gradient colors curved in towards the edge of the canvas as bits of red and blue were used to highlight the shades and features. A dark purple string type line extended from the center of the curved object to the other edge. Four slender and beautiful finger-like structures painted with red grasped onto that curve.

And it was then that Chanyeol realized – he had drawn his archenemy, or rather, the fingers of his archenemy holding his bow.

Chanyeol paused. He wanted to discard this, he really did…but he couldn’t, because it was incomplete. He  _ needed to _ complete it. The song could only help up to a limit. He needed more of  _ Baekhyun  _ in this painting. More of…Baekhyun’s archery.

Chanyeol checked the clock – one in the afternoon. He had class at two but nobody would mind it if he stayed back after class. He got up, packed the canvass and gathered his tools. He  _ had to _ complete this painting.

Seventy meters across, one hundred twenty-two centimeters in diameter, stood a small point.

A point that wasn’t even visible unless you were looking for it. But Baekhyun was looking right at it.

The wind speed was normal – nothing he wasn’t used to. The target was in his vision. His riser glimmered brightly under the summer sun– A Wiawis TFT G. He had customized his bow himself, before his parents cut out most of his money supply. It was very precious to him – and owned by him.

He straightened his back, relaxing his arm and shoulder muscles, slowly moving his bow up – the stabilizers; he used the whole set - Wiawis ACS15 – one long, two short and one extender, straightened up in a graceful manner. Archery was the most beautiful thing ever and as gracefully as his bow lifted, it dropped, creating a flawless arch and catching light. Baekhyun loosely clasped the riser, and his body fell into poise – the perfect poise – his elbow pulled back, hand lightly placed on the bow, arrow stretched back, the string taut and the tail of the arrow touching his lips as he instinctively corrected his stance. And at once, he let the arrow flow; let it fly towards the aim.

The bow dipped down from the lack of pressure, forming an arch.

And the arrow was on the line between ten and nine. Ten points.

“Good going, Baekhyun,” His coach complimented. Baekhyun took the compliment, but he could do better. He held the bow up again, admiring the curve yet again.

As an archer, that’s what he did. It was more about perfecting the constant repeated refrain than something dynamic. It was more about attaching his soul and his mind to the arrow than shooting it with mechanical perfection. It was more about the small things – the way he clasped the riser, the fingers he used for shooting, the way he released, the way his shoulders relaxed. Archery was more about mental concentration than physical concentration. It took guts to stand in one spot and keep shooting all day long without losing concentration, interest or tiring your brain and body out. Every arrow of his flew with passion, love and care. Rough and quick archery…wasn’t archery after all.

He straightened up and then relaxed, his body falling into the holds of his mental control. Peace spread in a wave-like motion throughout his nerves. A soothing, yet competitive calm settled itself in his aura, and his elegant fingers lifted the bow up. His eyes followed the way it fell, due to the pressure and gravity and then he pulled the arrow back. He nibbled on the back with his teeth and willed his body to aim. It wasn’t his eyes that aimed; it was his body and its instinct. The hand holding back the arrow fell back and in a flash, the carbon-rod went forward through his bow and plucked itself at –

“Bullseye!” His friend, Junmyeon exclaimed. The coach smiled warmly at him –

“They say ‘once is luck, twice is coincidence and third is talent’.”

Baekhyun plucked out another arrow from his quiver.

It was nearing evening. The sun outside had dipped, leaving streaks of yellow and red in its memory across the dark-blue sky. The air was chilly, as characterized by the night. Goosebumps covered Baekhyun’s limbs, and made his fingers stiff, causing him difficulty to shoot, but this was all a part of training. Sometimes, during competitions, archers became so nervous that they’d have uncontrollable spasms or explainable stiffness all over their body, leading them to defeat. Thus, it was important to train in all kinds of weather and all kinds of situations, to be equipped with experience and skills lest anything went wrong. But all the true shit about training in uncomfortable temperatures didn’t make Baekhyun’s secret and tiny regret of choosing outdoor archery over indoor archery dissipate, especially now that he was extra-sensitive and pregnant.

But then again, while you wouldn’t have to care about wind speed and temperature in indoor activity, you’d have to care about speed, timing and points. It wasn’t as graceful as outdoor archery. Indoor archery was quicker, faster and stronger. As he plucked another arrow from his quiver, he let his thoughts die and centered his concentration around the target and the arrow. The wind speed, light, distance, angle, posture and every other thing flashed by his mind in a quick speed and he adjusted all the way through, before letting the arrow go. Nine points. Another arrow. Seven points. He shifted his hips a little. The point was his life; it was his destiny that he was chasing. Shoot. Ten points. He allowed himself a small smile – a smile that was wiped off immediately when he felt a familiar presence enter the room. Park Chanyeol. He was carrying his art set. He went and sat in a corner and started painting. Archery was probably the only sport in which disruptive entrances were allowed. They said it strengthened one’s mental control, and they weren’t wrong, because as Baekhyun scanned the side lines, he saw the cheerleaders –  _ his cheerleaders  _ – that he never paid much attention to, because he was way too occupied by archery. He wondered if that made him more desirable to them; he knew it did.

He notched another arrow, and his face morphed into that look that he wore around a lot – the resting, relaxed, concentrated face. And he kept shooting. Eight points. Not good enough. Pull his hand a bit more back. Still eight. Look at the aim – that’s what makes you worthy. Don’t miss it. Ten points – just a little over the boundary. Get it in the center. More. Seven points. Don’t frown. Don’t look at Chanyeol. Six points. Breathe. Lightly clasp. Shoot. Ten points. Again. Ten. Again. Nine. Better. Ten. More. Ten. Your life. Ten.

“Empty,” He gasped out. His hand which had been searching around his quiver, was grasping onto nothing. Kyungsoo, the assistant at the club, moved forward –

“Here,” He handed Baekhyun the arrows that he had plucked out from the target, “Good game.”

Baekhyun allowed himself a look at the hunched, tall figure on the sidelines. Chanyeol wasn’t painting at that moment. He was looking right at the archer. Baekhyun couldn’t figure out the reason behind his sudden arrival. He was pretty sure he’d told Chanyeol that he’d find another place to stay permanently, because he wasn’t staying at the artist’s house for another day. They weren’t close enough and frankly, Baekhyun had no interest in being  _ close  _ to Chanyeol. He could meet far more interesting, successful and influential people.

Baekhyun notched his arrow and he noticed how Chanyeol gripped his brush. And as Baekhyun shot, Chanyeol painted long, graceful strokes across his painting. The sound of the crisp canvass and wet paint sounded very much like a relaxing ASMR video – Joe perhaps? – and Baekhyun relaxed his being completely to the pattern that Chanyeol and he had formed. It was, undoubtedly, calming but it would be a shame to not mention the fiery competitive spirit wafting below their music, and as Baekhyun’s shots grew more accurate and quicker, Chanyeol’s strokes increased – faster, more beautiful. They were fighting a fiery war in the midst of a relaxing rhythm, and that, was Baekhyun’s highlight of the day.

“Alright, that’s enough!” The coach’s claps and the whistle shook Baekhyun out of his trance. He paused and his eyes flicked up to the clock on the side – it was ten in the night. He’d been shooting throughout the day with some breaks in between. It should be enough for a day.

It  _ should be  _ but…

Something in him told him it wasn’t enough. Not yet. The constant thump of the arrow hitting the target still came from his right and as Baekhyun turned to see the archer who was constantly shooting, he found Kim Minseok. His eyebrows pulled into a frown. He hadn’t noticed  _ him  _ arriving. If there was a rival that Baekhyun despised almost with the same intensity that he despised Chanyeol, it was Kim Minseok. The cat-eyed guy was rude, impertinent and mocking (but then again, Baekhyun wasn’t really  _ kind  _ either). Oh, and definitely inhuman. He had  _ no  _ emotions other than ‘victory’ and ‘you suck’. What Baekhyun hated the most about him was that this guy could take away his chances of going into the Olympics easily, because Minseok  _ was  _ a good archer. He was a  _ very good  _ archer – built on experience and years upon years of drilling that arrow into the target. It had become almost like a body reflex for him.

Baekhyun had always been above Minseok in terms of performance, but these past few months had watched Byun Baekhyun’s downfall. And the past few games he’d played had lost him some sponsorships and deals. He’d done some  _ idiotic  _ things.

But he was trying to get back up.

“Baekhyun, let’s go,” Junmyeon said. He had already packed everything up and was ready to move out of this area, but Baekhyun relented. He shook his head –

“I’ll practice a bit more.”

“But-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Bye.”

And the arrow was notched, and the string was pulled back, and Baekhyun’s eyes were fiery cold and focused; and Junmyeon knew that the archer won’t be leaving anytime soon. He glanced upon the painter – Park Chanyeol – who shrugged when Baekhyun started shooting again and went back to painting himself. Junmyeon sighed and left the damned place.

Chanyeol couldn’t think like a normal human being. He had thought he’d listen to songs and copy Baekhyun’s shooting style and put it on a canvass, but…he had not expected anything like this. Archery, he had come to realize, was music. The scratchy, hoarse sound that was produced when the arrow was pulled out, the swishy wind sounds that came from the movement of the arrow in the air, the slight whine that was produced when the arrow was pulled back, the dull thud of Baekhyun’s footsteps, the sharp, metallic slide when the arrow was released and the final bang when it hit the target. And repeat. Everything went by in a rhythm, a beat, a harmony. And the track featured Chanyeol’s breath, his gasps and his strokes and dips of thick brushes into viscous paint.

He saw all of this in colour. A bright, vibrant red. And he couldn’t stop painting.

Chanyeol knew he was sensitive and observant to things around him - unless he was painting, he could be very ignorant then - but in that moment, it was like his senses were open dams and everything around him flowed around him, surrounded him and embraced him like quick gushing water. He could feel  _ everything  _ and see  _ everything.  _ His strokes were getting faster, on par with Baekhyun’s arrows which were speeding up, up, up! Chanyeol glanced towards Baekhyun and when he saw those glassy determined eyes, he started painting faster. His strokes were wild now, but they had never seemed so perfect, so accurate, so correct. His hands flew across the painting. His breath came out in small, short gasps. This was the fastest beat ever – nothing could beat this (no pun intended).

But he was wrong.

Because soon, the music became uneven. Chanyeol strained his ears and heard the arrows – they were way too fast. He looked up. Baekhyun was basically a whirlwind. He was shooting arrows faster than Chanyeol could draw strokes. The music moved up ahead, leaving Chanyeol stranded behind.

Baekhyun was lost. He had nowhere to go.

He couldn’t go back to his parents’ house, not after they had kicked him out so uncaringly and stripped him of his identity and pride. He also couldn’t go back to his ex-boyfriend’s apartment because the latter simply did not deserve that. Baekhyun hoped Heechul would be crying while embracing the empty bed. And, of course, he couldn’t go back to Chanyeol’s place. The painter was his enemy and Baekhyun didn’t think either of them would like to be closer than necessary. But Baekhyun wasn’t close with other people and that left him with…no place at all.

So, he did what any sane person would do.

He set up a camp in the practice grounds.

Late after midnight when Kyungsoo returned from the office, he was spooked to see a small bundled-up figure with a sharp bow leaning against a tree. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was none other than archery mastermind, Byun Baekhyun. Kyungsoo had no idea what the archer was trying to do.

He poked Baekhyun, “Hey, what are you doing?”

He was sleeping, Kyungsoo realized, as Baekhyun opened his eyes.

“Oh, hi Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun muttered awkwardly, still sleepy.

“You should go home,” Kyungsoo said, eyeing the sweaty overalls of the archer. Archery didn’t require all that jumping around and strength, but it did require a fit, healthy and completely focused body. It wasn’t an easy sport.

“Um…you should leave first.”

Kyungsoo narrowed his eyes, “It’s my duty to leave last.”

“But…I’m practicing.”

The owl-eyed man was unimpressed, “Yes? Would you mind telling me what kind of practice this is?”

“I – I’m hugging a tree!”

“I’m aware.”

“It’s very healthy.”

“How so?” Kyungsoo had no idea what Baekhyun was on and about. The archer had always been a bit twisted to him, but that was probably because the assistant despised the Byun family.

“Didn’t you know? Tree-hugging is good for your mental health. It can benefit people with ADHD and depression, and it causes release of oxytocin, serotine, and dopamine. The Japanese do ‘Forest Bathing,’ which they call ‘Shinrin-yoku.’ Nature is good for one’s mental health and as an archer, my mental health is my priority,” Baekhyun finished his speech proudly. Kyungsoo didn’t say anything at first, but then he sighed and sat down next to Baekhyun.

“Let’s see how well your nature therapy works,” Kyungsoo leaned his head against the tree, and let his eyelids fall. Some rest and mental peace were to be appreciated by him, especially after the amount of stress he had been harboring these days.

Baekhyun didn’t say anything at first. They were surrounded by a calm and it seemed stupid to break it. The insects’ sounds were music to his ears – deafening yet pretty music that he could get lost in and then he’d never have to hear what others said about him… The soft wind around him cleared his mind and helped him relax and the certain smell of those green and crisp leaves completely lowered down his stress levels. He could stay here forever, close his eyes and forget everything…

_ Beautiful things are always precious _

_ Even if you stay for a while and then leave _

_ Like the ordinary occurrences I see everyday _

_ Somehow I still want to fill up my daily life _

The song played through his mind, and he gathered enough courage to make himself remember that he had goals in his life – Olympics, the child he was carrying and the lgbtq – there were things he had to fight for. He couldn’t just…lose to them or hide away.

“Kyungsoo,” He asked, turning to his side towards the owl-eyed man, participating in conversation to get rid of the depressing yet pleasing thoughts that filled his mind, “Are you okay?”

Kyungsoo opened his eyes. For a few moments, they were dazed before he focused them onto Baekhyun. He didn’t say anything thus Baekhyun repeated his question.

“I don’t know Baekhyun…life hasn’t been very kind to me these days.”

After Baekhyun asked him to elaborate, he shrugged and said, “I’ve been feeling…really hopeless for the past few weeks. You know, I just feel like I’m going to lose in the long run.”

_ I know,  _ Baekhyun wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I – people like you won’t understand,” Kyungsoo shook his head.

“Try me,”

“You belong from…your family, Baekhyun. You wouldn’t understand.” Baekhyun wanted to laugh at how ironic this was, but he kept his mouth shut, like he always did.

“I’d like to widen my understanding then. Please explain,” Kyungsoo looked at Baekhyun doubtfully before he said –

“I…I’m attracted to men,” He whispered harshly, as if admitting to a crime. He fingered his cross, “In a heteronormative society, I’m attracted to men. I know I shouldn’t be but… I can’t help it.”

Baekhyun looked at him with soft, kind eyes. He gazed and then in a low whisper, he said, “I’m also attracted to men, Kyungsoo. And I don’t think there’s something wrong with me. I think I’m okay.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes were saucers, “ _ You?  _ But – but your family-?”

Baekhyun’s face fell. His family – people who betrayed him – had made him into an evil, dark and conservative person, when he wasn’t. Sure, he could be evil, but he wasn’t…  _ evil.  _ He figured it was high time to let people know he wasn’t included in the family they thought about when they heard his name.

“Why do you think I’m not going back home? It’s ‘cause I don’t have any place to call ‘home.’” Baekhyun said bluntly.

Kyungsoo was  _ really  _ taken aback, “You – you don’t have a place to stay?”

Baekhyun shook his head, “No, not since I got kicked out.”

“Well – if you want – you can stay at my place. I’m not that well-off so my abode is not going to be any sort of luxurious, but it should work,” Kyungsoo said hurriedly. But Baekhyun already kind of knew Kyungsoo wasn’t rich. It was obvious in the way he decided intently on the cheapest product to get, even though his eyes were always on the more expensive products. And Kyungsoo’s dressing sense – all non-branded clothes – made it obvious enough. But Baekhyun was grateful. After all, his parents, who had enough rooms in their large mansion that they wouldn’t even see Baekhyun, didn’t give him a place to stay. But, here was someone much poorer, much more of a stranger, giving him accommodation.

He was hella’ grateful.

“Thank you so much,” Baekhyun’s voice dripped with sincerity. Kyungsoo smiled warmly at him.

Kyungsoo’s place was barely the size of Baekhyun’s bathroom. There was a single sized bed placed near the wall, which had a very huge window that opened into the fire-escape. A tiny-toilet sized kitchen was in one corner and a creaky, wooden door led to the bathroom. The room was small, yet it was comforting in a sense. There were books – many of them on hand-made wooden shelves – and a few pictures around, and there were also those fairy-lights hanging on the window and the kitchen. There were many small plants around – all of them cactuses. The room seemed far from the life Baekhyun was used to – the hype, the medals, the riches and the tension. This place was simply a wonderful fairytale. It seemed beyond reality. And Baekhyun was happy for that.

“Your place is wonderful,” Baekhyun said, honesty dripping in his tone.

Kyungsoo gave him a small smile, “You don’t have to say that. I know this place is really small compared to what you’re used to.”

Baekhyun shrugged, “I’m not used to rooms looking so beautiful.” And that was true. The green cactuses added to the beauty of the cream, yellow-lit room with the books and the fairy lights. There was so much…hope around here.

Kyungsoo giggled, “Well, thank you,” He said and moved around to open a small cupboard beside the kitchen. Baekhyun noticed how it stored a lot of things – a chest, some utensils, many clothes, shoes and blankets. Kyungsoo sat down and started pulling out a rolled-up mattress. Baekhyun moved forward to help, but the mattress looked heavy. And he was advised not to overwork himself or lift heavy objects up, since he was pregnant.

But still, he felt shameless. So, he grabbed the lighter blankets and comforters and laid them all out. Baekhyun was a cuddly person, even though he didn’t seem like it. He couldn’t sleep without blankets. His heart panged as he remembered the pink and blue thick mattress that he had in his first home – the one he’d been kicked out of.

He smiled. Bitterly.

“Well, now that that’s done,” Kyungsoo said, “I can sleep on the floor.”

Baekhyun refused the offer. He wasn’t going to ruin up somebody else’s house. He was grateful for whatever he was getting. He had no right to ask for more from Kyungsoo. And the owl-eyed man was quick to agree, before going to the washroom with some clothes. He had made that request of sleeping on the floor out of kindness. Baekhyun knew that. And he didn’t want to reach the limits of Kyungsoo’s hospitality.

As Baekhyun flopped on the thick mattress, he covered himself with a blanket and quickly, stripped himself of his clothes. He really needed to buy some clothes but he didn’t have money, which was laughable because once, he’d been annoyed by the abundance of money he had. That was why people shouldn’t trust material things. They were variables. Talent and hard work, however, were constants.

After a few minutes, Kyungsoo came out of the shower. They talked for a few minutes, before Kyungsoo switched the lights off and immediately fell into a slumber. Baekhyun couldn’t relate. He kept turning on his new bed. His eyes kept scanning objects in the dark. His mind wasn’t focused at all – quite contrary to the requirements of being a good archer.

He was just very…restless.

And he really just wanted to cry and bow down to this…thing that was life. He just really wanted to give up, get an abortion somehow, go to conversion therapy, date a nice girl and be his mama’s good boy. Life would have been simpler.

But, when he left two years ago, he didn’t leave thinking that the way forward would be easy.

_ Mother will never understand why you had to leave _

_ But the answers you seek will never be found at home _

_ The love that you need will never be found at home _

Just then he thought of Chanyeol. He thought of how lucky the taller was to be accepted for who he was. But then he thought of how unlucky the taller was, that even with his family accepting him, he felt outcasted.

So many thoughts flew past his mind. So many things that his mother wouldn’t understand. So many things that he, himself, was only now starting to understand. Tears dropped down his cheeks as he pleaded to his god for sleep.

_ And as hard as they would try, they'd hurt to make you cry _

_ But you never cried to them, just to your soul _

- _ Smalltown Boy, Bronski Beat _

__

_ I don't like myself _

_ But maybe it's all in my head _

_ And maybe I'm not the word I've said _

Chanyeol was painting. It was equally the last, and the only thing he wanted to do. Today morning brought to him another one of his ‘episodes.’ Another day of sitting on his bed, empty, hating the sunshine and the light, another day of wanting to quit, and another day of wanting to tear his skin away. But he wasn’t brave enough to do so. All he was good at was wearing suits and smiling at people, and then crying about it during the night.

He felt horrible. He didn’t feel a lot – or maybe, he _ did _ feel a lot, but feeling so much just made him very numb.

It was always the same. Locked up in his room, breathing in the suffocating smell of paint that he liked (or did he?) and then just being there, till the sun set. His paintings weren’t even that good, and nothing that he did made him feel good. There was nothing he looked forward to, and the things he looked forward too would never happen. It was the same vicious cycle all over again. It was going round and round this circle of misery that was existence. And he was honestly tired of it.

He leaned back to stare at what he’d made.

A black canvass, with blood red splattered in the center. At the edge, there was the rough outline of lips biting onto something, which extended into a long arrow, heading towards the red splatter. Hands held the red splatter. He was drawing Baekhyun again. This time, the painting was focused on his middle view – his lips and his chest as he shot the arrow. He sighed and closed his eyes, resting against the cool walls. And the images went through his mind; Baekhyun inserting the arrow and pulling it back, causing the string to curve, the bow lifting up and then sweeping down in a graceful arch, before he put the back of the arrow in his mouth and angled it properly. And then, he shot.

And Chanyeol knew that the arrow would hit bullseye.

And Baekhyun, he did too.

It was that confidence, that utter stark talent and accuracy, that graceful motion, that eye contact with the target that drew Chanyeol in. It was more passionate than romance, more thrilling than a chase, more interesting that dreams – Baekhyun’s archery. He found himself already getting up and packing all his stuff. And the yard was one place he didn’t feel like he didn’t belong. He didn’t feel insecure there. Because he knew that nobody would be watching him – not when something so graceful was happening in front of them. And he knew that archery fans were all like him; too immersed to see anything else.

Archery was the best silent hype. It was Chanyeol’s kind of place. And he was heading towards it.

Baekhyun was called in by his coach that morning.

“Baekhyun,” Mr. Song’s voice sounded gruffy, “Please come in and sit.” Baekhyun did as he was told, stepping into his coach’s office. It was small and a bit messy yet organized. He sat on the comfortable chair in front of the desk.

“Last time we talked,” The coach started, “We weren’t able to have a proper discussion.” Last time they’d talked, his mother had barged in and started cursing Baekhyun for being a shame to the family, and Mr. Song for being supportive of Baekhyun.

“However, I’d like to talk to you properly. Your mother – ah, called me-” Mr. Song had that small helpless yet amused smile on his face that he sported whenever he talked about Baekhyun’s family.

Baekhyun got up, the chair skidding painfully across the floor, and bowed down – a complete ninety degree, “I apologize for the headache she caused you.”

Mr. Song, a nice forty-year old man who went through a strict routine everyday to get rid of his pot belly, laughed heartily –

“No, not quite,” He said; his eyes were shining and soft, “But I’m worried about you.”

Baekhyun listened.

“You’re pregnant, Baekhyun. You have a child. And, you  _ are a child,”  _ The words tugged onto his heart harder than ever. They suddenly made him so emotional right then, making him realize that ‘Yes, I am a child. Only nineteen.’

The coach smiled sadly, “And your situation at home is… hopeless, I’m sorry to say,”  _ Hopeless,  _ “You’re only living with your boyfriend right now.”

Baekhyun shuffled on his feet, “About that… I actually-”

The coach raised an eyebrow, and Baekhyun looked down at his feet, before admitting –

“He dumped me. And kicked me out.”

The coach drew in a sharp breath. Baekhyun waited for him to say something. Tears were almost peeking out of his eyes.

“Baekhyun-ah,” The coach said finally, looking at him, “You can’t do all of this  _ alone.” _

“What – what are you implying, sir?”

The coach folded his hands, “Mental health is a very important factor in archery, Baekhyun. However, you don’t have to push yourself to the limits of your mental strength to do archery.”

“I – I don’t understand.”

“What I’m saying is,” The coach sighed, “Baekhyun, you’re giving up everything right now.”

Silence.

“You’re giving up your home, your comfort, your life and everything that has ever mattered for this child, and you’re giving up your everything for archery. You’re only giving things Baekhyun, and while hard work gets one fast, it’s important to note that archery is about mental health, and if the selectors deem your health as non-constant, because you’re pregnant and have nothing to fall back upon, Olympics would fly past you. Or, if the selectors are homophobic or against male pregnancy, they’d never take you.”

More silence.

“Your dreams are hard to reach with the conditions you’re putting yourself into.”

He didn’t say anything.

“And I’d like to ask you to stop. Because I care about you. I have seen you grown up since you were ten and you have practiced under me for three years now – everyday. I have seen you take the world head on, however, with this you’re just hurting yourself more. You have a choice, Baekhyun. Back out.”

“Back out from what?”

“Huh?”

Baekhyun looked at the coach; his eyes already wet and red, “What exactly should I back out from? The fact that I’m gay and a carrier? The fact that I’m pregnant? Or should I go back to my ex begging him on my knees? Or should I beg my parents instead? What exactly do I back out from?”

“You need to stop Baekhyun. Don’t push your limits – you don’t always have control over your mind. Back out from archery,” The coach stated. He sounded broken about it.

Baekhyun let out a weak chuckle, “Coach, that wasn’t an option in the list I provided.”

Baekhyun went back to practice. He felt weaker – physically. His pregnancy was getting to him, filling him with wild spurts of energy when he just wanted to rest, and draining him when he wanted to practice. But Baekhyun wasn’t going to let this be an excuse. He was going to strive harder, work better, fly higher.

_ He wasn’t going to lose.  _

_ I won’t lose because I love to win. I won’t lose because I need to prove people wrong. I won’t lose because I can make a change. I won’t lose because I want to give this kid inside me an amazing and blissful life. I’ll be strong, even as a single parent. _

_ Well, I will be the strongest that he ever knew _

_ And I will be there when he needs a love strong enough _

_ Don't worry I will carry your share for us _

_ No matter how bad the storm _

_ I will be strongest that he ever knew and we'll leave you alone _

He picked up his bow again, standing in the line adjacent to Kim Minseok, who gave him a smirk. Baekhyun shot – a ten. 

  
  


That afternoon too, Baekhyun was distracted by the entrance of a tall, familiar man with a canvass and a bag filled with paint. The others merely nodded at him or paid him no heed. Baekhyun didn’t fall into any category. He turned towards Chanyeol and asked –

“Why are you here?” 

Chanyeol shrugged, “Painting,” And then the taller hid behind his canvass. A muscle in Baekhyun’s face twitched uncomfortably. He really didn’t like the presence of the artist. But, well, there was nothing he could do. 

Baekhyun went back to shooting.

  
  


This pattern continued for the next few days. Baekhyun would draw out his bow and arrows and shoot elegantly, while Chanyeol would sit at the side and paint with every ounce of passion and talent that he had. It was a silent competition. They were both lost in their own world. They didn’t say a word to each other, but somehow, they were communicating a lot. 

Nobody ever disturbed them.

Until that Tuesday evening.

“Baekhyun…” Kyungsoo’s voice was low, nervous almost. Baekhyun paused and turned back to the shorter. Chanyeol, sensing that the beat was off, stopped painting and listened intently, “I – do you have some money?”

Baekhyun’s eyes widened. He knew Kyungsoo was poor, and he had seen the purple bottoms of his poverty. He knew he was burdening Kyungsoo by staying at his house and he felt really guilty about it.

“No, sorry, I…” His voice faltered as his eyes bore down at the ground. He felt embarrassed. Baekhyun had never had to depend on someone else financially, and this was a new, and very embarrassing experience. The only capital he had was his bow, and he couldn’t let go of that.

“Oh, I see…” Kyungsoo smiled awkwardly, and he was about to walk away when Baekhyun held him back –

“Kyungsoo, I’ll move out today,” He stated, on a whim.

The assistant’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, “No, no! Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out. You stay safely at my place.”

Baekhyun smiled disarmingly, “Hey, don’t worry. I actually wanted to talk to you about this. A friend offered to let me stay. I don’t want to be a burden, so I’ll stay with him,” He had no friend offering. As a matter of fact, he had no friends at all. He had no time for them, “So, you don’t have to worry.”

Kyungsoo still looked like he wanted to argue, but the relief in his eyes was transparent, “Oh, really? I’m happy for you. I’ll help you gather your stuff, on the condition that you’d visit me at least once a week.”

Baekhyun grinned, “Sure, works.”

Kyungsoo smiled too and, after a while, he walked away.

Baekhyun let out a deep sigh. Well, shit. He was just setting himself up for more trouble, wasn’t he?

  
  
  


That night when Chanyeol returned to his complex, he was not surprised to see the lump of human body with a bow, sitting on a bench. He eyed Baekhyun for a minute, thinking whether he should approach the latter or not. Baekhyun sneezed loudly. Chanyeol sighed and, rolling his eyes, he walked briskly towards the archer. 

Baekhyun looked up with those guarded, yet hopeful eyes, “What are you doing here Park?”

Chanyeol shook his head, “Shouldn’t I be asking you this question?”

Baekhyun averted his eyes, “I’m waiting for someone.”

_ Déjà vu _

“Alright, keep waiting,” Chanyeol said and walked towards his apartment. He wasn’t going to be Mr. Generous and offer the archer to stay. Mr. Pride would have to get off his high horse and make things right for himself. But still, he walked slowly, waiting to see if Baekhyun would act. The archer didn’t, so Chanyeol fastened his footsteps and entered the life of his building. 

_ Putting someone down, that's a low blow _

_ What goes around comes around like a yoyo _

Chanyeol sighed. He couldn’t listen to music like this. There was a storm outside. He got up with a towel and went outside and down the lift. He couldn’t shake how ironic it all was – the Byun Baekhyun that had always put him down was sitting homeless, dumped and pregnant on a bench outside. Karma was too harsh sometimes. 

He exited the lift, but he couldn’t spot Baekhyun anywhere. The rain was strong, and almost blinded him. Hopefully, Baekhyun found a place to stay. He probably did. Chanyeol was about to go back when a familiar voice called out –

“Chanyeol?”

He turned back and the face of his nemesis appeared in front of him. Baekhyun seemed to have been waiting near the lift.

“Can I stay with you?” Baekhyun wasn’t looking up. His eyes were downcast. And Chanyeol wanted to make him beg; but he wasn’t brave enough. Baekhyun was the dark side of the flame. He appeared warm but he was ferocious. But then, Chanyeol was never brave enough. 

“I guess you can.”

  
  


That night, Baekhyun felt absolutely horrible.

After practicing throughout the day and working hard, he was hungry. However, his hunger was buried by the ugly nausea that shook his frame. He also sported a slight headache and all his muscles were sore. Looks like his pregnancy symptoms gave him a shake to remind him that they were alive.

“Ugh…” He turned his position on the bed for the millionth time. His chest felt heavy, and his bladder was full. An abortion didn’t seem  _ that  _ bad now. Suddenly, something lurched – probably his stomach – and his legs scurried up to the bathroom. His hand immediately covered his mouth. He found himself in the bathroom. At once, he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and started puking his guts out. Tears pricked his eyes as his raw throat throbbed and his chest heaved painfully. This was really, really unpleasant.

Behind him, the door opened, and a shocked gasp echoed in the bathroom before hands held back his hair and moved firmly down his back. For once, he didn’t have a smartass comment to make about Chanyeol, but it was probably because his mouth was too busy vomiting. Gradually, his painful heaving stopped. He was light-headed and weak. He slumped back against tall legs and closed his eyes. The toilet was flushed.

“Baekhyun, you should wash your mouth,” Chanyeol suggested and darn right, Baekhyun should, but suddenly his legs were jelly and his head was mush. He tried to move his limbs but failed miserably as he slumped against Chanyeol’s foot. He hated being so pathetic.

Strong arms held him by the armpits and lifted him up to the sink. Chanyeol handed him a toothbrush with toothpaste on, and mouthwash. Baekhyun tried to function and grabbed the toiletries. He tried not to focus on the fact that Chanyeol was behind him and shamelessly, cleaned his mouth and splashed water on his face. His chest felt light, but his head hurt like a bitch. But he wasn’t going to rely on Chanyeol anymore.

He turned towards the taller and managed to say, “You can go. I’m fine.” His throat immediately throbbed painfully, and his vision spun to remind him that he was lying.

Chanyeol just snorted, “I  _ can _ , however, I choose not to.”

He helped Baekhyun out of the humid room – because there were no windows – and settled him on the dining table, where the air was lighter and it was easier to breathe. Baekhyun’s head cleared a bit. Chanyeol handed him a cool glass of water, which he put against his head to soothe away the pain before drinking it. Yes, he felt better.

“So,” Chanyeol started awkwardly, looking over at Baekhyun, “Pregnancy symptoms, huh?”

Baekhyun glared at him, “Shut it.”

“Ungrateful brat,” Chanyeol leaned back, crossing his arms. Baekhyun realized he should thank Chanyeol, but then again, it wasn’t  _ him  _ that asked for help, now was it? Yep, he was a petty bitch.

Baekhyun’s eyes skidded to the fridge and suddenly a want for food – a particular food – manifested itself in his mind –

“Chanyeol, I want chocolate ice-cream,” He announced, licking his lips and already dreaming about putting that delicacy in his mouth. It would heal his headache.

Chanyeol looked at him as if he was some sort of enigma – or a crazed alien, “I don’t have ‘chocolate ice-cream.’”

Baekhyun glared at him, “But I want chocolate ice-cream.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I have a kid inside me, goddammit! Give me some chocolate ice-cream,” Baekhyun shouted. He was irked and annoyed by Chanyeol, but a little part of him – the sane part – knew he was being unreasonable.

Chanyeol looked even more annoyed. He pointed outside, “It’s fucking storming Baekhyun and I’m not going to go get you chocolate ice-cream in a freaking storm in the middle of the night.” His chair skidded across the floor, producing a shrill and sharp note, “I’m going to sleep.”

He walked away. Baekhyun sighed, dropping his head to the cool glassy dining table. He just wanted chocolate ice-cream… and an abortion.

The next morning was even more horrible compared to the night. Baekhyun woke up with the sudden need to pee, and he had to do a quick marathon to avoid pissing his pants. That would have been so embarrassing, oh god…

After his ‘marathon’ he stormed into the kitchen, surprised to see Chanyeol awake and alive. The latter was washing some brushes in the sink.

“Chanyeol, I want-” Baekhyun started but was cut off by an uninterested Chanyeol.

“Go get it yourself.” The latter, who had his back to Baekhyun, said. The archer huffed and went to the fridge to get some lemons. He wanted lemons and honey in hot water. It was one of his most trusted drinks to fight off nausea, headache and sickness. And he really needed to fight off all of that and more. His throbbing throat and head could probably use some nice, smooth, honeyed hot lemon water to relax his tissues and muscles –

“ _ You don’t have freaking lemons?”  _ Baekhyun was appalled. He turned to Chanyeol with a frown on his face –

“This house stinks of paint all day, and is dark and scary and there aren’t even  _ freaking lemons and honey?  _ What kind of house is this?” Baekhyun cried.

Chanyeol put his brushes down harshly and turned to Baekhyun, “One that doesn’t require your presence, your highness. You’re free to leave.”

Baekhyun quietened down at that. Why the heck was he screaming at a house-owner when he was the houseless one? So stupid. Pregnancy hormones were stupid. And his boyfriend and parents who gave him the ‘houseless’ status were stupid too. Again, he didn’t apologize. He simply grabbed his archery kit and left the place. 

Practice was a bitch, especially when the coach called him first thing in the morning.

“Baekhyun, sit.” The coach said. He sounded even more serious than the last time.

The archer rolled his eyes, “Is it about quitting archery again? Because we’ve already established that I-”

Baekhyun was cut off, “It’s more serious.” Mr. Song’s voice was grave. The temperature suddenly dropped as a chill established itself in the room and down Baekhyun’s back simultaneously. Baekhyun didn’t dare ask Mr. Song to explain. He just waited.

“According to your medical report, during the time of World Archery Competitions, you’d be on the end of your first trimester,” Baekhyun nodded, “You’re well aware that most miscarriages occur in the first trimester.” Baekhyun nodded again, “And you’re not worried about that. Next issue - your blood rate would increase due to your pregnancy, which would cause you to be one of the last people who’d be selected or preferred to be selected.”

Baekhyun looked down, “However, if my performance is unbeatable and I have certain medical reports, I’d surely not be cast aside.”

The coach leaned forward, “That brings us to another problem. Your performance isn’t ‘unbeatable.’” For a moment, Baekhyun’s heart froze and dropped, “In fact, you know that during some of your recent games, you’d allowed fear to rule over you and  _ messed  _ things up badly.” He knew. Baekhyun remembered very well, “In addition to that, you’re as unstable as one gets. You know I don’t mean the things I say, but you’re aware that showing you the reality of things is my job.” The coach’s eyes were sad, “Don’t you?”

Baekhyun gulped and nodded. His heart was slowly being crushed.

“You’re not unbeatable Baekhyun. Out of the five major sponsors that you had, two backed out because of your downfall, and though you choose to ignore it and work hard, you know very well that you’re going through a downfall.”

He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t – no.

“People say you’ve already touched your peak. The Fallen King. You know about that name, right?”

He did. He wasn’t going to sob.

“You’re losing Baekhyun,” The coach was genuinely sad. The air was so heavy. No sound fell upon Baekhyun’s ears except that of his coach’s voice. His body didn’t move. Everything had stopped. Yet, he was so close to caving in and breaking. Yet, every brain cell in his body registered the truth that he knew but was avoiding. He was losing and he was lost.

_ So, I walk into the dead of night _

_ Where my monsters like to hide _

_ Chaos feels so good inside, no more _

_ I know that I'm a mess _

_ But I ain't tryna be the best _

_ So, whatever's coming next _

_ I better pray-ay-ay-ay _

_ I lost, I lost _

_ I lost control again _

_ Always do the same and I'm to blame _

_ I lost control again _

“Baekhyun?”

“Hmm?” He looked up through wet eyes.

The coach let out a breath and folded his arms on the table, “Two competitions,” His voice echoed, “You have two competitions to prove yourself before World Archery. I’ll try my best to get you there, but if I feel you’re incapable, you should forget your dream.”

Even after Baekhyun stepped out of the coach’s office and onto the field, the words kept repeating. The Fallen King. It stabbed his pride. It stung his heart. It hurt him. A cool drop of liquid dropped onto his heated face causing him relief. That drop was followed by many. It was raining.

“Archers! Rest up for a while. We’ll open the grounds after an hour or two.” The coach bellowed before sneaking back into his office. He came out again though, to call Minseok in. Kim Minseok strode confidently across Baekhyun with a smirk on his face as he eyed Baekhyun’s tears. He seemed to have known what went down in the office previously, just how Baekhyun knew Minseok was getting some offer by some sponsor. They held sparking eye-contact before Minseok parted with a leer in Baekhyun’s direction.

For once, Baekhyun couldn’t outdo the cat-eyed archer because, currently, he was the Fallen King, while Minseok was the Rising Star.

And that fucking hurt him even more. 

He positioned his hands and straightened his back. The rain cascaded down his features, serving as a distraction, but like a true archer, he paid no heed to it. The arrow flew past its string, but it didn’t land on the tree. Salty water fell onto his lips. He couldn’t stop crying. He drew the arrow back again but this time too, it missed, just like all the others that he’d shot. It was probably stupid of him to be shooting on trees in the rain, while they were supposed to be resting. Or, it was just stupid of him to think that he didn’t deserve the rest that they were offered.

He kept shooting, the turmoil in him extending its whips into something ugly, something purple. He hated everything. He gave TED talks to himself all day and tried to convince himself that it was all okay but…it just wasn’t, and it was probably never going to be. His head hurt, his raw throat throbbed, his eyes burned , and he hated the fact that he was carrying not one, but two hearts in him – one that was still forming, and one that was absolutely deformed.

He couldn’t do this.

He shot another arrow. He missed.

Anger burst from within him, and he didn’t think twice before walking over to that one single fucking tree and planting a hard punch across its bark. A splinter stuck itself onto his skin, and the water falling down the tree became red – red, just like the anger he contained in him, just like the color his eyes were, just like his pain. Red. He shouted and screamed, sobbing against the tree, and hitting it with his hurt hand. It was pathetic, he knew that, but it gave him such relief, such freedom… and such pain, that he felt he deserved for more than one reason.

Reasons he didn’t want to think about.

He screamed some more, the shrill sound echoing around the area, cracking at the end as he collapsed against the tree and cried his heart out. Instant gratification. The sound of panicked footsteps reached his ears, and he cried even more. He didn’t want anyone around him. A shadow of a human cast over him, and he lowered his head and shut his eyes. The person knelt in front of him, lifting his chin up –

“Hey! I was at the art building and heard you screaming, are you okay-”  _ Oh no. Not Park Chanyeol,  _ “Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun didn’t reply. He didn’t open his eyes.

“…What are you doing he-  _ wait _ , what is this?” A warm hand held his, “What did you do? Oh god, you’re injured. Badly.”

The rain was a blessing. Only Baekhyun, who could taste the salt of his tears, knew that the wetness on his face wasn’t because of the rain.

Chanyeol clicked his tongue, “You’re an archer, aren’t you? How would you shoot with your hand like this?”

_ No, not about archery again.  _ Every word about archery just made those talks and those chants clearer in his mind.  _ The Fallen King. _

“Leave,” He opened his eyes, bracing himself.

Chanyeol raised an eyebrow, “Why’d you do this? Was it fun…” He looked up at the scars on the tree, “hitting a tree?”

Baekhyun’s heart squeezed painfully, “Stop…”

“What were you even doing?”

Very weakly, he pointed at the bow, “It’s its fault!”

Seeing Chanyeol’s face, he elaborated, “No…no arrow would hit the target. I’ve been shooting for a good forty-five minutes.”

“So, you got pissed and decided to hit the target yourself,” Chanyeol was unimpressed, “You’re insane.”

Baekhyun closed his eyes. He just wanted to be left alone.

“You don’t have any self-preservation,” He felt himself being hauled up, “Let’s go to the infirmary.”

Chanyeol looked warily at Baekhyun, who was being patched up by the doctor. This wasn’t good. Baekhyun wasn’t handling shit nicely. He was obviously too affected by everything to think properly. His physical state wasn’t all that good, considering he was pregnant, but more than that, his mental state was in shreds. Baekhyun wanted a lot of things, but he wasn’t good enough to get all of them.

And that was the sad reality of life. In some ways, they were very alike. Especially now.

Chanyeol couldn’t even fathom that Baekhyun had been shooting for forty-five minutes at a tree – not even a target, but a big, fat tree – and had missed every single shot. It was very…unlike him. It seemed that all great things came to an end, and so did Baekhyun’s career. For some reason, the thought of Baekhyun’s career ending hurt him in more ways than it should. It felt like he was witnessing the death of some great leader. It hurt a lot to think that something so great, so amazing, something that he’d looked forward to (even if he would never admit it), something that he’d thought about as majestic, unbeatable, absolutely amazing,  _ immortal  _ … was ending.

The image of Byun Baekhyun calmly notching down his arrows and shooting them accurately one by one - an image that he regarded as pure control and amazing strength - faded as he looked at Baekhyun, sitting on the white chair with red, lost and empty eyes, his bow kept at a far distance from him and his hand damaged greatly.

“It’s done!” The nurse smiled, “Try not to use your hands for breaking things next time.”

Baekhyun nodded, otherwise still, and Chanyeol dragged them out. The rain had stopped, leaving the sky raw and a little grey. The air was dry and there wasn’t any wind. Summer rains were annoying. The scene seemed as hopeless as they both felt.

“Let’s go home,” Chanyeol suggested.

Baekhyun looked slightly to the right, further up to where the archery camp was and for a moment, Chanyeol felt like he was going to refuse and instead go over there to practice again . Instead, Baekhyun lowered his head and nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Chanyeol figured that Baekhyun had gone selectively mute. The archer – could Chanyeol even call him that? – hadn’t said a word for three days now. He had neither stepped out of the house nor bothered to take his bow and arrows to his room. The items lay lifeless and, apparently, useless at the door of the living room.

Chanyeol didn’t like this. He was already a very pessimistic person although he was always trying to be positive, but this… this dark cloud of failure and negative emotions that Baekhyun carried with him was too much for Chanyeol. He woke up in the middle of the night, thinking about things that he  _ shouldn’t _ . The happy music he played around the house seemed like playing pretend. His art pieces had turned even more angsty. While the happy music reflected bright colors in his mind, his mood was black and grey, and it was all contrasting and leaving him with a headache.

Ugh, he hated this disease. He hated everything. He hated himself.

He really needed to ask Baekhyun to fucking move on.

And so, he  _ did. _

“Baekhyun!” He marched into the archer’s room. The boy was sitting on the bed, staring at the window – which was closed  _ and  _ hidden by the shades. So fucking depressing. The anger he felt towards Baekhyun right then was…comparable to a huge tsunami.

“Can you like, get off your fucking bed and do something?” He roared, “I don’t know why you’re moping here and I have absolutely no interest in finding out, but can you stop? Go do something productive! I don’t care what but just get your depression out of my house!” It probably wasn’t the nicest thing to say to a sad person – fuck, Chanyeol knew that if someone had told him that he’d probably lock himself in his room and cry – but he was tired. Sorry, but not everybody was in a mental state that was good enough to help others. There were therapists for that. Chanyeol wasn’t one.

Baekhyun didn’t reply. He just lowered his head, angering Chanyeol even more. He stomped to Baekhyun’s bed and held the boy by his collar –

“Why are you annoying me? Don’t you have your archery career? Go and practice!” He shouted, “And if you don’t want to do that, then join a fucking college and get some degree or something!”

Baekhyun didn’t reply. Just why wasn’t he replying, saying something that would put Chanyeol to shame? Just why wasn’t he getting up and drawing his arrows and bow, looking like the absolutely perfect and strong Apollo or something? Just why was Baekhyun… doing what Chanyeol did?  _ Why? _

He let go of Baekhyun’s collar, stumbling back and sitting on the bed. He stared at the selectively mute boy and realized just why he was so annoyed. It wasn’t because of Baekhyun affecting his mood – well, not completely. It was because, for the first time in his life, they were absolutely equal. Even though some may not feel so, they were both at the deep bottom that it was impossible to climb out of. 

Baekhyun didn’t get out of his depressive state, and Chanyeol stopped bothering him. It was of no use. Everything became sad and bleak and Chanyeol found it suffocating to be trapped in his own house. He really wanted Baekhyun to… leave, even if it was the most selfish thing ever. Baekhyun’s voice which had once been red – this bright and dark _blood_ red – had become dull and lifeless . His pregnancy symptoms had also gotten worse. It was all adding up for the worst.

And then one day, while Baekhyun was puking his guts out, his phone started ringing.  It was bad to invade someone's privacy, so Chanyeol just let it ring. A whole minute later, it still hadn't stopped, and so the artist just huffed and picked it up . He was surprised to see that it was Baekhyun’s Coach – if the caller-id ‘Coach Mr. Song’ had to relay some information. 

After some internal debate, he grudgingly answered the call , “Hello?” His deep voice echoed into the cell.

“Ah – Baekhyun? Am I talking to Baekhyun?” The Coach said in quick Korean.

“Um, no, he’s... kind of busy,” Chanyeol winced as the vomiting sounds increased, “Can I take a message?”

There was some shuffling on the other side, “Well, I’ll be quick. Tell him that if he’s following the advice I gave him, it’s okay. He doesn’t have to do archery. However,” There was a deep breath, “If he  _ still  _ wants to do everything – which I don’t think he does – he has to start showing up. It’s been five days and his previous coaches say he hasn’t missed practice for more than three days in the past five years. This is, of course, if he wants to do archery. If he took my advice, then everything’s fine. That’s all.”

The light purple bubbles that kept popping up while Mr. Song was talking, suddenly disappeared. Chanyeol’s heart sunk a little as he realized what the coach was talking about, and he just spluttered –

“Um, okay,” He cleared his throat, “I mean, yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll let him know.”

He disconnected the call and simultaneously, Baekhyun walked out looking just a little different from a zombie. He frowned when he saw his phone in Chanyeol’s hands.

“Who-?” A coughing fit shook his lean frame, “Who was it?”

Chanyeol eyed Baekhyun. He had lost weight, which was already a red flag during pregnancy. His stomach was flat, yet looked heavy, and his skin was pale and crisp. A check-up would be a necessity at that moment. Baekhyun didn’t seem like he’d be able to digest whatever his coach had said. He was already hanging on the last thread of sanity and Chanyeol didn’t want to tear that thread away. The archer was way too weak to face his life.

But Chanyeol was yet again, proven wrong about Baekhyun.

“Was it my coach?”

The artist nodded wordlessly. Baekhyun bit his lip and eyed his bow. He took the phone from Chanyeol’s hand and called the coach. Chanyeol stared at him – he didn’t want to hear this conversation. He knew this was where Baekhyun would say he was quitting. Once and for all. After all, it was what would make most sense at a time like this.

“Hello? Yes, coach, it’s me. Baekhyun,” The boy’s voice sounded much more stable than it had just a few seconds ago , “Um, I told you I’m not. I’m not quitting.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widened.  _ What the hell? _

“I just had a… rundown for the past five days. Got a little sick. Yep, I’m okay now. I’ll start showing up to practice again from tomorrow. Yes, don’t cancel the competition. I’m  _ really  _ okay. Thanks!” He disconnected the call and Chanyeol grabbed the phone from his hands, ignoring the protests.

“You really were on call…” He looked at Baekhyun in shock.

“Yeah! Of course, I was. Now, give me my phone back!” Chanyeol complied, but he still couldn’t get rid of the shock that he felt.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Baekhyun didn’t look down. He stared at Chanyeol right in the eye. 

“You – you’re not  _ quitting, _ ” He couldn’t even mask his surprise, “I thought you – I was sure you’d have given up by now.”

Baekhyun sighed and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, “Well, to be honest…I was about to. In fact, I  _ had given up. _ ”

Chanyeol just listened.

“But – but then, that day, you came into my room and… I don’t know – I felt as frustrated as you. I… I saw the bigger picture, you know? I realized I was losing. And... I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I realised that you’re right,” Baekhyun admitted, “I should do something productive. I can’t just sit here, because nothing is going right. I have to make it right.”

Chanyeol’s heart soared and crashed at the same time. Byun Baekhyun wasn’t like him after all. He was a winner, and he  _ would  _ win and hit his target, no matter what it took nd…Chanyeol respected that. But then again, it was only a contrast – something that he wasn’t. Something that put Baekhyun above him.

But that was all for Chanyeol to wonder about in the night and sacrifice his sleep for. Currently, there were more important things that needed to be done.

“Well, first things first. We’re getting your check-up done today.”

“The baby is okay,” The doctor smiled encouragingly at them, “However, your physical health is very deteriorated and, by okay, I mean the baby is not at risk of instant death.”

Baekhyun shivered violently at the word ‘death.’ Chanyeol glanced at him to make sure  _ he  _ wasn’t going to die.

The doctor apologized, “I’m sorry. That was a little insensitive, but, I’m afraid that is your current situation . You need to start taking better care of yourself. You’re at a period where the risk of miscarriage is at its highest, thus you should be very careful. I’m not asking you to quit archery, but you should not run a lot, at least not during this period,” The doctor gave some more instructions and lectured Chanyeol about Baekhyun’s diet, his required hours of sleep and other things – such as medicine, nausea, practice and emotional state. He made sure to note them all down in the notebook he had brought.

Pregnancy was a major thing. It shouldn’t be treated as a joke.

How he wished Baekhyun, his ex-boyfriend and his parents understood that, though.

“That would be all,” The doctor concluded, “You should keep coming back here for regular check-ups since you’re an athlete, alright? And if you feel any sort of abdominal pain, heartburn or extreme increase in your heart rate, call me immediately. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Dr. Ah,” Baekhyun bowed his head to the doctor, “I – we’ll be leaving now.”

“Alright, take care.”

“Same to you.”

Once they were out of the clinic, Baekhyun turned to Chanyeol.

“We can’t go home yet,” He stated blandly, “We need to stop somewhere first.”

Chanyeol blinked, “Alright. Where are we going?”

“Jaksal…Chicken?” Chanyeol asked hesitantly, “What are we doing here? This doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”

Jaksal Chicken was a rundown little store near their University. It smelled of grease and fatty chicken – quite delicious, Chanyeol had to admit. Red plastic chairs and small dingy plastic tables lay outside. The place was packed. Cheap beer lined the shelves outside. It was the kind of place they showed in K-dramas. Chanyeol tried not to let the extremely bright colors pop in his mind, like cloud bursts. He didn’t like this place a lot. It just wasn’t Baekhyun’s kind of place.

“You don’t know me well, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun said. There was no bite to his words. He entered the shop, lifting the plastic curtains up, and the bell rung, announcing his arrival. Chanyeol followed him hesitantly, and at once, the smell of chicken overwhelmed him. The interior was rather empty, compared to the outside, yet the place was so alive. The walls of the shop were painted a greasy green and the furniture was once again, plastic. However, the place felt homey. There were pictures on the wooden shelves and perched up on the wall, and potted plants kept in old, dirty water bottles. Baekhyun walked right up to the counter, where a high-school girl with her hair up in a bun was arranging dishes on her tray.

“Hey, is Eomma here?” Chanyeol’s eyes widened. Baekhyun clearly did  _ not  _ mean his own mother. The sight of Mrs. Byun in a place like this brightened his mood up. For once, she’d be off her high horse.

Like her son was…

The girl perked up, “Oh, Baekhyun? Eomma’s in the kitchen. Wait, I’ll call her.”

Baekhyun grinned, “Thanks, Min.”

As the girl rushed away, Chanyeol leaned in, “How do you know these people?”

“I’ve known them since I was eleven Chanyeol,” He didn’t bother to explain, and soon the curtain on the left was lifted and an old lady with a bright smile limped in. Chanyeol was quick to notice that she had a prosthetic leg. 

“Baekhyunnie?”

“Eomma!” The ever-so poised archer ran into the arms of the lady. Chanyeol could only watch as Baekhyun hugged her and giggled about his day. He seemed…happy, safe and comfortable, in the arms of the chicken lady.

_ Oi, little bird. _

_ Seems like you found a home, in the streets. _

_ Faraway from your house. _

Baekhyun munched on chicken happily, and Chanyeol reflected his emotions. The chicken was  _ really  _ good. Baekhyun’s  _ Eomma  _ sat next to him, patting his hair.

“And I – uh, I decided not to give up,” Baekhyun’s voice lowered, “I remembered you. You told me you wanted to see me on the Olympics Stage – that it was your biggest wish, and I – I won’t fail you.”

The lady was immensely beautiful. She had a natural beauty, and her pretty eyes filled up with tears, “My little Baekhyunnie. You make me so happy. I’m proud of you for moving forward.”

Baekhyun smiled. It seemed that Baekhyun’s happiness always had to correlate with Chanyeol’s pain, thus he kicked him hard under the table.

“Ow!” The chicken spewed out of Chanyeol’s mouth, and Baekhyun laughed freely.

“And this man – he’s Park Chanyeol. He’s been kind to me,” There was red all over Baekhyun’s face, and Chanyeol knew that this was a big moment for Baekhyun. He was letting Chanyeol in.

_ Eomma  _ smiled, “I’m thankful, dear. You deserve the world,” Then she playfully hit Baekhyun’s arm, “Visit me after practice like you used to, okay? I will prepare good food for you,” She wrinkled her nose, “There’s a lot of things they say not to eat during pregnancy, so I’ll help you.”

“Thank you!”

The sky was lit up by stars.

It wasn’t an extraordinary statement. The sky always had stars, yet who paid attention to it? Such was the case with life, too. Bright, shiny things that were only noticed once they were no longer there. 

Chanyeol breathed in the cold air. He did. He noticed things.

“You like her very much, don’t you?” He commented, staring at the sky above. They were walking on the dark road to Helio City, where he lived. It was a fancy condominium complex, an expensive one too, but Chanyeol wasn’t poor.

“I love her, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun said honestly. His eyes were unfocused and bright, taking everything in, “You know, they say that no matter how strong you are, you need  _ one  _ proper adult who’s willing to show you the light. I – I didn’t see that person in my own parents.”

Chanyeol hummed. Korea was a city of music thus someone was always playing some music. Right now, some boys at the nearby shops – they probably also went to the Korean National Sports University – were blasting Confession by Park Hye Kyung. It suited how high they felt.

“But one day – I was eleven then,” Baekhyun chuckled light-heartedly, “I was meeting a competitor at this archery club in Jamsil Dong. I don’t know much of what happened but I’m sure I had a bad day. I lost against him and that archery club wasn’t all that fancy – it wounded my pride, and I was afraid of going home.”

“Your parents were going to chew you out,” Chanyeol spoke, from experience.

“Yeah, they were, and I started running around and was hungry and reached the chicken place. And I had a meal. It was – it was the first time I ate street-food, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun’s eyes were wide and expressive, as if they were pulling Chanyeol in to see that memory. He could picture it well – a slim, sharp Baekhyun with a grimace on his face, wolfing down on fried chicken, getting grease everywhere on his face, “It was so,  _ so  _ much better than the artificial, professional food I had at home, always cooked by a chef. It was…filled with love. That’s how I felt.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help but smile. The atmosphere was sort of perfect; a starry sky, a deep, romantic song, the soft wind and honest and raw talks.

“And then, I realized I didn’t have money.”

Chanyeol laughed, “How could you forget that Byun?”

Baekhyun shrugged. He had a little smile on his face, “I was so used to people paying for me, I forgot that I had to pay, you know?”

It was sad – how they were brought up.

“And I felt lost for a moment, smaller than a small chicken shop. Min was repeatedly asking me for money – she told me they absolutely wouldn’t let me go, and then this woman stepped out, wincing and hurt. I realized that the money was wanted so they could get her a prosthesis. I felt like shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun laughed, “What are you even sorry for? That my 11-year old self realized that people had problems and I wasn’t a prince?”

“Well…” Chanyeol grinned. It was the music that made his mood good. Park Hye Kyung’s voice was fuchsia and the instrumentals were more or less purple strings; and he liked those colors. It calmed him down.

Then Baekhyun spoke again, and there was a vivid burst of red, “But anyway, that lady, she fixed my hair, Chanyeol,” The wide-eyed look that Baekhyun gave Chanyeol reminded him of a baby, “And she wiped my mouth and laughed at my state. She looked at my bow, and asked me if practice was harder than usual, and if I had a bad day.”

Chanyeol smiled, knowing where this was going.

“And that – that was more than my own mother had ever done for me in eleven years. With my mother, it was always business. She didn’t ask me if I was okay, she asked me if my mental state was good enough to win.”

Chanyeol chuckled, “Yeah, that sounds like your mother, alright.”

Baekhyun laughed, “Yeah, you’ve also had to experience that. I honestly pitied you.”

Chanyeol didn’t comment. The atmosphere was too comfortable to be ruined.

“Ever since then,” Baekhyun said, “I’ve been dropping there. Sometimes, I don’t even go to eat. I just talk to her, drink some lemonade. That place holds a lot of my firsts.”

“Really?” Chanyeol crinkled his eyes, “Such as?”

“For starters, I drank illegally for the first time there,” Baekhyun said.

Chanyeol raised his brows, “Well, looks like she isn’t that good of a guardian, huh?”

Baekhyun smiled and shook his head, “I needed it at that time, Chan. I’d just lost an important competition, ending my chances of making it to World Archery Competition. And more than that, I’d run away from home.”

“I’m sorry. Forget I said anything,” Chanyeol bowed his head to him, a complete ninety-degree bow, and Baekhyun’s loud whale laughter was worth it. The archer slapped his head –

“What are you doing, dumbo?” His face was glowing. The music changed to Heo Young Saeng’s life, and for that moment, it was perfect, “You’re so annoying, jeez.”

Chanyeol pouted, “I was only apologizing…” He couldn’t keep pouting for long, so he just started laughing. This was how it was supposed to be – if you’re not sad, you should be happy. You shouldn’t be what Chanyeol was.

“Tell me more, Baekhyun. What kind of firsts did you have there?” Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind and his eyes blew up in disbelief and disgust, “Don’t tell me your baby was made there…”

“No!” Baekhyun shrieked, jumping up a little, falling right into Chanyeol’s arms, right as the song hit chorus. The archer repeatedly slapped his arm with surprising strength, “You’re so disgusting, Park!”

“Oh, okay, ouch! That hurts, Byun!” He couldn’t stop laughing though, and a minute later, Baekhyun joined him too. The sound filled the air – cherry red and light grey-blue, erupting in beautiful pops in his vision, joined by the green and yellow of the song.

He wasn’t in love that night, but if love felt like anything, it felt like this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My twitter is @iexoeris. You can always hit me up to chat and we can talk about you.


	3. 2

#  2

Baekhyun’s coach had once asked him to read the most psychologically disturbing story he could find and then the next day they had done pressure training to see if Baekhyun’s mental health was strong and focused enough to handle that. Needless to say, Mrs. Lee who owned a local bookstore was surprised to see the young archer asking for a ‘psychologically upsetting and disturbing story.’

He had read Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, and true to Mrs. Lee’s words, it was one of the most fucked up books he had ever come across. However, he had to agree that the way the book was written was pure art. There had been one particular quote that had struck his sixteen-year old brain – a quote that he could never forget –

_ ‘...talent means nothing, while experience, acquired in humility and with hard work, means everything.’ _

And that was presumably why he had  _ thrown  _ himself into archery.

If archery was an ocean, Baekhyun was the coin they dropped in it, hoping for greater things. He had travelled throughout – seen the sharks, tasted the blood, held onto the fish and got lost in the weeds –

\-  _ he’d never once thought that he might lose his shine _

Because there was an abundance of gems in the sea – of pearls, rubies, crystals. There were things that shone brighter than him; things that were better than him

_\- things that could defeat him_

_ \- Until now. _

Because at that moment, he was staring at the scores. It was a team match with four sets. They were halfway done with the second set, which meant Baekhyun had shot a total of three arrows.

And all of them were eights.

“How’s the match going?” Chanyeol asked Kyungsoo, who he had befriended over the numerous days he had spent in the Archery Grounds, as he sat on the plastic chair around the ground.

Kyungsoo gave him a tight smile, “We lost the first set, and the second isn’t looking very hopeful either.”

Chanyeol frowned. His eyes darted to the digital scoreboard, trying not to let the sun get into his eyes. They had lost the first set by one point, and among two nines, there was one eight that could probably lead them to defeat since the other team had only nines.

“Don’t tell me the newbie is the reason we’re losing. He was okay during practice,” Chanyeol had developed a taste for archery. He found himself watching tournaments. It helped that he lived with an archer – Baekhyun was quick to provide commentary about shooting style, the wind, the points and everything else. The archer had been working really hard for the past few days. This was one of the two matches that would decide his participation in World Archery.

Kyungsoo turned to him; the doe-eyed man was worried, “It’s Baekhyun. He’s scoring only eights.”

Chanyeol’s eyes immediately darted towards the said archer, who was standing behind Kim Minseok. He was the last shooter, and Chanyeol could see how  _ blank  _ Baekhyun’s face was, completely white. He wasn’t thinking about the match at all. It was obvious.

The commentary wasn’t helping either.

“…Team had always been victorious, Byun Baekhyun mostly leading them to victory, but now it seems that he has claimed the ‘Fallen King’ title. Byun has apparently not won any match since the Individual Archery Competition in Winter…”

Chanyeol’s grip tightened on the metal rail, “What kind of unprofessional commentary is this?”

Kyungsoo sighed, “Welcome to archery Chanyeol. The commentary is always shitty.”

The artist sighed. His eyes scanned the archer once again. Baekhyun and he had developed a cordial relationship which included eating food at Jaksal Chicken (salads for Baekhyun), bitching about their parents and watching archery competitions together. Baekhyun for now was a potential enemy…or somebody that Chanyeol respected yet was jealous of.

But people weren’t perfect.

Baekhyun would lose.

The crowd suddenly erupted in cheers.

Chanyeol looked around confusedly, “What happened?”

Kyungsoo pointed at the scoreboard, “Look!”

A ten. The chant became audible to him – ‘Kim Minseok! Kim Minseok!’ The said cat-eyed man was grinning, soaking up the crowd attention. Nobody paid attention to the timid shuffling behind him, holding onto his bow tightly as he got ready for his turn to shoot. Baekhyun looked scared – looked like he wouldn’t even manage to score a five.

And so Chanyeol joined the chant –

“ _ Jaksal Chicken!” _

Few annoyed faces turned to him, few confused faces turned to him and Chanyeol’s heart raced and his blood pounded, and  _ this was a bad idea. He was an idiot. He was a shame. Oh my god – _

But then Baekhyun looked over at him, and things went in slow motion – his lips stretched into a small smile before pulling up into full-fledged laugh and when he stepped out on his stage, the humor in his eyes darkened – it was here. The bow was lifted up with a flick, like a fire dragon swishing its tail up in all its fury, and Baekhyun immediately drew it, quick and accurate as his eyes shone green. The crowd quietened down. They were holding their breath.

The butt of the arrow was pressed onto the right side of his lips, and his eyes looked forward, and then the arrow flew. Between the length of the path, and the small arrow, people couldn’t see the path of the arrow.

They could just feel it, hear it,  _ sense it. _

__ Chanyeol didn’t have to look at the scoreboard. As he saw Baekhyun’s bow curved inwards, dancing gratefully, he  _ knew.  _ The artist had lived most of his life in confusion, and doubt and blinding emotions and colors, but he  _ knew. _

_ Talent hits a target no one else can hit. Genius hits a target no one else can see. _

Bullseye.

Chanyeol’s vision erupted with colors – so many of them as people shouted and chanted, but somehow, the cherry red was still the most noticeable. The artist didn’t realize but he was shaking a little. He had seen so many archery matches but nothing – nothing compared to this and he couldn’t fathom why. But then he understood. His hand went to his chest, gripping his shirt, shaking as he stared at that smile sent towards him – the little ‘thank you,’ and he was painfully aware of his heart hammering under his chest.

That day, with Baekhyun’s tendency to win, something else awakened,  _ ignited.  _ Something that had been buried under for three years – but this ‘something’ wasn’t going to benefit any of them, it would only harm.

And thus, Chanyeol put it back inside his heart, deep under the layers that nobody bothered to explore. Soon, they’d dry and stiffen; become rock.

And then, they’d tell him he’s a jerk. 

  
  
  


There was definitely a spring to Baekhyun's step, Chanyeol noticed, as the archer stepped out, and there was a good reason for him to be happy. He'd not only won the competition, but also the hearts of the people - after the first bulls-eye, Byun Baekhyun had swept a string of tens to the scoreboard. It had been exhilarating to watch Baekhyun pick up his bow with the radiant confidence that he had previously lost. More than that, it was fun to watch the crowd lose its shit - the fallen king, who? Baekhyun had proved himself as the Phoenix, rising from his ashes.

He was strong like that.

Chanyeol couldn't relate.

The archer sprinted towards him and was almost about to throw himself onto Chanyeol, before he realized what he was doing. He stepped back, and there was an awkward beat before his face broke into a gradient grin - one that Chanyeol wasn't used to seeing. Baekhyun only smirked, however these days, he'd been smiling quite a lot too. It was...refreshing. He gulped.

"Park!" Baekhyun exclaimed, hitting his shoulder, "I owe you one."

Kyungsoo was confused, but he was smiling, "Why? What did Chanyeol do?"

Baekhyun just grinned, "Jaksal Chicken."

  
  
  
  


Later when they were in front of the rundown shop, Baekhyun rushed in. The kind chicken lady, or Mrs. Jaksal, as Chanyeol had come to call her, was already standing near the counter. Her eyebrows perked up when she saw Baekhyun running in. For a few seconds, she was hesitant, scanning the boy, probably to see if he had won or lost but then Baekhyun threw himself into her arms -

" _ Eomma _ , I won!"

Her face brightened up, lit more than the sky which had a thousand stars, and she wrapped her arms around the archer. It was such a heart-warming sight, one that melted Chanyeol's heart to honey.

And yet...

_ He couldn't help but be envious. _

Baekhyun was still overcoming his fears. Chanyeol was helping him, this kind lady was helping him, his Coach was helping him - and it was working. Baekhyun wasn't very rich - in fact, he wasn't rich at all, as of the present, and was stuck in adverse conditions, yet...he looked okay. He definitely looked happier than all the other times Chanyeol had seen him - which hadn't been a lot.

Chanyeol gulped, feeling a certain set of harsh feelings crawl up his throat. He hated this. It would be okay - life - but then it wasn't. His vision was painted with cherry red bursts of laughter, a comforting pink surrounding it, and different shades of colors belonging to the people sitting around. There were the colored noises of the plastic shifting, the drawers being opened and then shut, the chairs screeching -

\- amongst all that, the light grey-blue was hardly visible, hardly present.

Among all these beautiful colors, just what was he doing?

Why was he there?

It got too much, the emotional turmoil building up in his chest like a tornado on its way to destruction. He took a step back, and then another, and then turned around and dashed out.  _ Now, Park Chanyeol, calm down. _ He told himself repeatedly - up to the point where he was scared of defying himself. The smell of greasy, fried chicken wafted through the plastic in the cold, cold air, like a dangerous temptation. These feelings, he told himself, were like the smell of the chicken too. They wouldn't be present in the air for long - the air would remain, but not these fumes. He'd be okay even after all of this.

But then, why did he not feel like it?

His heart beat fastened even more, running a race with no destination. He'd keep running and face defeat at every turn, and then he'd get back up and go through another path, only to stare at the failure that he was once again.

And then where would he go?

He didn't realize that he was panting, didn't realize that his head was about to burst, and that his vision was fading - he didn't realize that he was sweating, that he was crying -

\- until his weak,  _ weak  _ legs collapsed and he found himself on a chair, paralyzed and in pain. He couldn't stop his chest from heaving, couldn't fight himself.

_ If he couldn't even fight himself, how would he ever fight for himself? _

His vision blurred even more - red and pain and it felt that all the stars had fallen from the sky onto him and he was burning up, lost within himself. Why wasn't he okay? This hadn't happened in so long - why - why now?

The red darkened, deepened.

The pain intensified.

_ "Chanyeol!" _

He was trembling, quivering, shaking, as if he was the earth and his heart was the core, which was grabbed and shook with utmost strength. It was so cold - yet everything was burning! He was losing consciousness. Yet even in that state, he could feel the rod in his chest - it was so hot, it hurt so much. His chest seemed to have metal stuck in it. Everything was hurting.

" _ Chanyeol!" _

Stop.

He was having a heart-attack. Oh god! This wasn't good. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to fucking die. Somebody save him. He was going to die a loser. He was going to die just like that.

_ Just like that. _

Suddenly, there was a pressure around him, and Chanyeol's body shook violently. No, not more! The pressure resided but there was something - a cold touch - on his forehead.

"Chanyeol-ah,  _ breathe." _

Red burst in his vision. Tears streamed down his face. He couldn't - he was overwhelmed -  _ he couldn't! Just stop! _

"Breathe. Breathe with me. In and out."

Red flashed in and out. He was dying and there was red.  _ No! _

"Chanyeol," The red softened, and Chanyeol realized that the word was whispered, " _ Breathe." _

Chanyeol did. Once. But then everything piled up again - emotions, thoughts (none of them helpful) piled one above the other and dropped onto his chest. He wouldn't make it out. He couldn't. It was so hot,  _ sizzling. _

And then his hand was held, and moved on top of something soft.

_ Beat. _

_ Beat. _

_ Beat. _

_ On top of someone's heart. _

_ " _ Chanyeol, breathe with me," The red was soft, "In and out." The soft muscle moved up and down and Chanyeol found his body imitating the action.

"You're doing great. It's going to be okay. It's okay." The heart beat and the chest moving up and down calmed him down, gave him consistency, and slowly, his blurred vision cleared and his chest lightened. The elephant had climbed off his chest. He'd be okay. He was  _ breathing.  _ His mind cleared. He was okay.

The night sky appeared in his vision. The stars hadn't fallen to the ground, they were still there. The chilly air breezed past him, and Chanyeol regained senses. He could feel the humid wetness on his cheeks - he had cried. He closed his eyes, not wanting to be overwhelmed, and focused on the chest moving up and down. When he no longer felt like he was dying, he opened his eyes.

Baekhyun was muttering encouraging words to him, and holding his hand over his own chest. The look in his eyes - so soft, so caring, another new look on Byun Baekhyun's face.

"Chanyeol...?" He whispered softly, picking up on the fact that loud noises bothered the artist, "Are you...there?"

Chanyeol gulped and nodded. His head immediately fell down - so  _ drained -  _ but Baekhyun was there to catch him. He cradled his head and brought him to his chest, and Chanyeol turned his head to the side, where he could hear the sound of Baekhyun's heartbeat. It was red too - but a little bolder and darker, like the color of blood. It was a comforting color.

Baekhyun's hand ran through his hair, so comforting, so soft, so unprecedented. It felt good, comfortable, caring. And then the tears started to flow again, and soon Chanyeol was sobbing loudly. Baekhyun's hold tightened, and he didn't stop massaging his hair. It was constant, it was there. It was okay.

Chanyeol cried for a while - he didn't know how long, it could have been five minutes or five hours. To him, it seemed like the infinity that was present between two long seconds. After that passed, he stood up, dizzy and unbalanced but he ran to the side of the road and knelt down. And then, he puked his guts out.

After the violent heaving passed, he felt like he would faint any second and he didn't want to pass out on his vomit. He had no control over his body, though, and he found himself leaning, about to collapse, but then two strong bands wrapped around his arms and he was lifted up and seated on the plastic chair, where he had previously been sitting.

"Chanyeol? Park Chanyeol?" Mrs. Jaksal said, and Chanyeol forced his eyes to open. She presented him with a fresh-lime soda that he gratefully accepted.

"Drink it slowly," She advised and started running her hand on his nape in a comforting way that only mothers could. Chanyeol took a small gulp, feeling the disgusting taste of vomit eradicate from his mouth. After he was done with the drink, he felt much better. The girl who worked there, Yee Hun, offered to drive Chanyeol home on her scooter. The artist was in no condition to make any decisions, and thus he let Baekhyun decide for him.

And Baekhyun, of course, said yes.

He leaned in to Chanyeol, "Do you take any... medication for your panic attacks?"

Chanyeol shook his head. That's what it was - a panic attack.

"Oh, okay...do you need anything?"

Chanyeol thought about it, "Umm... _ candies _ ?"

Baekhyun looked at him, as if asking 'Are you serious?' and Chanyeol felt the bile rise up again. Why was he so embarrassing? But just then, Baekhyun nodded firmly -

"Candies. Those are important. Alright, you should head home now," That's all Chanyeol heard, "Yee Hun, drive safely, alright? It's in Block B, 6th floor, on the far right."

She saluted and helped Chanyeol on the scooter.

"Wrap your hands around my waist, Park boy. We're going to travel the world on a chicken-delivery scooter," Chanyeol weakly compiled before Yee Hun accelerated and the scooter, old yet trustworthy, zoomed past the shop.

Baekhyun immediately shivered, "I have a bad feeling about this."

_ Eomma  _ smiled, "Don't worry. I don't think Yee Hun will try to get into someone's pants, not right after they puked."

"That's not really what I'm worried about..."

_ Eomma  _ gave him a knowing smile, "It all works out in the end Baekhyun. It all works out."

  
  


Baekhyun stepped into the dark room and took his shoes off. The plastic in his hand rumpled and made loud sounds in the dark and silent room. He shut the door tentatively and placed his archery equipment on the side, immediately feeling lighter. He walked through the hallway and planted his feet in front of the wooden door. He raised his hand to knock but hesitated... he had a bad feeling about this - about most things.

About how much Chanyeol affected him.

But in that moment, it wasn't about him. It was about the artist.

So Baekhyun knocked.

There was no reply, but he hadn't really expected one. He hoped he wasn't invading Chanyeol's privacy as he opened the door and stepped in. He immediately stopped at the sight in front of him.

The room was dark. There were huge windows that were open. Silky, white curtains were draped over the huge windows, glimmering like moonlight in the starlit sky. The room stunk of paint - heavy paint. There were huge paintings, canvasses, messily kept around the room. Chanyeol sat in front of a huge canvas on a stool. He wasn't painting. He was just looking at it.

Well, this was awkward...

Baekhyun stepped into the room, "Um...Chanyeol?"

The artist hummed.

Baekhyun felt stupid as he said, "I brought candies."

There was a beat of silence in this lonely harmony they were composing, before the artist turned around. In the pale moonlight, his face looked even more deadly - hair messed up, face pale like a vampire, and eyes red. He didn't look any bit composed like he usually did.

"Thanks," His voice was hoarse, probably because of crying so much, "And sorry."

Baekhyun frowned, "For what ?"

"For ruining your victory night."

Baekhyun licked his lips. He had indeed forgotten about that - so much had happened since he won the match. It had been a long day - but Chanyeol didn't need to know that, not in this condition.

Baekhyun really had to try to be more humane, because that was the one thing he had failed to be to this person sitting in front of him throughout all the years he'd known him. The archer had only ever pointed out Chanyeol's flaws -

" _ I scored better than you," _

_ "I won and you didn't." _

_ "You look dumb." _

Chanyeol had retaliated. His attempts had only ever seemed pathetic to Baekhyun, until he reached the point where everything seemed pathetic to him and only then did the boy who was still fighting like a flickering ember seem more victorious than him.

But now Baekhyun wondered if any of them were actually victorious, or if this dark room housed only losers.

Losers that were created by each other.

What an irony.

When he realized that Chanyeol was still waiting for a reply, he said, "Don't worry about it. If not for you, I wouldn't have won anyways." He tried to smile,  _ genuinely,  _ but to him, it felt like an awkward stretch of lips. What should he do in this situation?

How to ease this guilt?

Baekhyun cleared his throat, "What are you painting?"

"I'm not."

The archer was  _ so  _ dumb, "Uh - I mean, what are you staring at?"

Chanyeol just shifted a little, allowing the moonlight to light up the painting and Baekhyun immediately gasped. He'd seen paintings, he knew art - after all he was the son of a prominent artist - but nothing he'd ever seen compared to the beauty that was presented in front of him in that moment.

Lit up by the moonlight, he was staring at the bottom half of his own face.

His nose was painted in shades of red, followed by his lips, curved and biting onto the string of his bow and oh, how carefully was his bow drawn - the Win&Win Recurve bow was depicted perfectly in all its glory, with every detail drawn to perfection. His hands had never looked prettier. His face wasn't even shown yet the aura surrounding him was ... undefeatable, relentless,  _ powerful.  _ Never had his mother depicted him with so much emotion in her pleasant paintings - never had he looked so full of life in a single picture. Then his eyes moved down the painting and, even though it wasn't drawn, Baekhyun knew it was a competition. People were drawn as blobs of various colors with minor details.

This crowd...Baekhyun knew where this was.

Three years ago. His best performance. The best crowd ever.

Baekhyun had scored  _ all  _ tens and oh, so many bulls-eyes.

That was the day he got his title,  _ The King.  _

Chanyeol had been present at that match. Baekhyun had sneered at him. He'd been sitting on the edge, folding onto himself, looking so  _ little  _ compared to the majestic being that Baekhyun had felt like. As Baekhyun scanned the painting once again, he could see Chanyeol in the crowd, standing out from all the bright and bold pulsing colors, sitting at one corner, painted as a dull blue-grey.

Baekhyun stomped forward, slowing down when he saw Chanyeol wince. All right, the artist hated loud sounds. Noted. He put his hand on the blue-grey orb -

"Beautiful."

There was silence. Chanyeol was shocked.

"But that's...never mind."

"It's you," Baekhyun pointed out, tracing it, "You were there. I remember it."

Silence fell again. It seemed that this was their song, filled with tears, silence, pleads and disaster.

_ My dear, don’t you worry about a thing _

_ Let’s just sing together _

Baekhyun suddenly felt like crying.

But it wasn't his place to cry.

He coughed, "Um, do you - do you have panic attacks like those...a lot?" It was tender and shy, treading on unknown territory. He was trying to initiate a conversation, he was trying to  _ help,  _ trying to ease his guilt - only that would make him feel better. 

But Chanyeol was still his enemy.

He looked at him, eyes blank and so,  _ so  _ lost, feeling so much yet showing so little and he just said -

"I don't want to talk about it."

Pushes and pulls, silence and crying, feelings and ... numbness. Why was that their song? Baekhyun tried not to let his tears slip out of their safe zone. They were supposed to be in his eyes and not out for the world to see. No, definitely not. And don't be mistaken, the tears weren't because of ... the song. It was the pregnancy hormones. Byun Baekhyun didn't show weakness.

It was probably his weakest trait, but he didn't know that.

He lifted up the plastic bag, "So...uh - candies?"

Coach Song smiled at him. It was a sight for sore eyes. The proud glimmering look in his eyes, and the wide toothy spread of lips projected just for him - not Kim Minseok, not anybody, but him.

"You did well, Baekhyun-ah."

It took all of Baekhyun to not just curl into a ball and start sobbing. Adults...some of them were so,  _ so  _ useless, so pessimistic, so hateful -

and yet, approval felt so good.

This system was toxic, and Baekhyun was a poison in it.

"I thought, in the beginning, that you’d let how much that competition mattered to you actually affect your performance," He was smiling and Baekhyun laughed sheepishly -

"Well, I did."

Coach Song slammed the desk, "But, lords, your comeback into the game and your amazing performance received so much media attention. People were swooning over you." He chuckled, "Girls and their fantasies."

Baekhyun grinned, but this time, it was an empty grin, "Well, they wouldn't do that if they found out I'm homo and pregnant."

Oops. There it was -  _ the mood drop _ .

Mr.Song's grin faltered, like the sun hiding behind the clouds, and then it completely disappeared. Rain had come. His eyes looked from one spot to the other, avoiding, thinking and collecting himself. Humans were so predictable.

"I-"

"Forget I said that," Baekhyun said, "I'm just moody, and you know, I'm craving some chicken."

Mr. Song blinked, "Oh, I see..."

Baekhyun smiled, "Besides, this was only one competition. I have one more match to prove myself."

The coach coughed, letting the moment pass, "Yeah, you should not forget about that. It's not really that soon, but then again, it’s never too far. Just... don't get lost in everything. Be focused. Be efficient, and know yourself better than others so that you don't fall at anybody's mercy."

Baekhyun didn't mention that he fit none of the criteria the Coach had just mentioned - he wasn't really a fan of career suicide anyway, or maybe he was, since he'd ran away from home, got a boyfriend and had a child inside him.

Career suicide.

Kim Minseok would never…

As if on cue, the said archer stepped in, "Coach, I heard you wanted to review my performance in the competition."

The coach smiled. Baekhyun noticed that it was a little tight.

"Yes, sit Kim Minseok," The archer crossed Baekhyun and took his seat next to Baekhyun, "I'll be straight with you," Baekhyun snorted at the other meaning, he had an inkling that the coach was bisexual, "Your performance wasn't  _ grand. _ "

The cat eyes twitched and the confident smile lost its grace, "But I did score a ten, and many nines."

The coach put his hands on the desk, stretching them out, "How many sets were there in all that you played?"

"Four," Both the archers answered in perfect synchronization, and then resorted to glaring at each other. There were originally five sets, but after the first lost set, they had consecutively won all three sets.

"So, how many arrows in all did each individual shoot?"

Simple, pop quiz,

"Eight." They said, but Baekhyun was a little faster this time. His petty pregnant self considered it a win.

The coach suddenly opened a drawer, and after rummaging through the piles of documents, he took out a file and opened it. It was a paper, containing all their scores, printed and signed by the organizer.

"All in all, Kim Minseok, out of eight, you scored one ten, four nines, two eights and one seven," He looked up, "It doesn't sound  _ that  _ good when I say it like that, does it?"

Kim Minseok's face was green, angry and livid. And yet, his eyes were familiar - that  _ loss  _ printed on them. Baekhyun called that the  _ guilty failure  _ look, and he was used to seeing it in the mirror.

"Meanwhile. Baekhyun started off with two eights and after that - six tens," Baekhyun still wasn't satisfied. The 'two eights' was something he wanted to get rid of.

"So, in total Kim, you scored 69 points. Mark Lee scored 70 and Baekhyun scored 76. The total you could have scored was 80," If exams were bad, archery was worse. Archery was like the surprise pop quiz that had 100 marks to it.

"In total we scored 215 out of 240, and how many points did we lose?"

"25," Kim Minseok answered grimly.

The coach hummed, "Baekhyun lost four points - excellent performance. Mark Lee lost ten, could have been better but he's a newbie, but you-" The coach tilted his head, "How could you cost us  _ eleven  _ points?"

Kim Minseok stilled and Baekhyun almost pitied him. The Coach had a 7-11 rule. If you lose more than seven points, you're in the yellow zone, which means you should get to practice, and if you lose more than eleven, you're probably not going to be in the next match. It was the red zone.

"I - I'm sorry."

"And moreover, how could you be proud of your performance?" Baekhyun winced. He understood Minseok's pride. Sometimes, when they were shooting, they didn't see the big picture, didn't think about the maths. They focused on the 'wow, I scored a ten and four nines!'

Baekhyun always focused on the maths.

"I apologize."

"If you'd lost one more point, you probably wouldn't have seen a competition again," There was silence, thick silence, the one that awaited the storm -

Kim Minseok stood up, knocking the chair and pointing an accusing finger at Baekhyun, " _ But then why did this guy get to compete?! _ "

The coach coughed, "That doesn't concern you."

"I think it does! I think you're being unfair, just because he's your favourite. The one who was  _ born  _ talented," The archer spat, looking angrily at Baekhyun, "The one who  _ ran  _ away from a competition, threw up and wet his pants," He laughed mockingly, "Embarrassed the whole academy -  _ didn't even stand up to compete.  _ And you still let him be here? He didn't even practice for a week."

Pang.  _ Pang.  _ And pang.

Hurt registered in his mind.

Being reminded of the past he harboured.

Pregnancy hormones at work again, he really wanted to cry and he knew that if he stayed for a second longer in this room, he'd erupt. So he made to leave, but Minseok held his hand -

"This is about you. Where do you think you're going?"

Baekhyun sneered, "Let go, Kim."

The coach stood up, "Minseok, stop this behaviour at once."

The archer whined, "I just want answers. Why is he getting second chances? Why is he allowed to slack off in practice? Why doesn't he run, lift weights and receive punishment?"

The tension increased and so did the bubbling of emotions in Baekhyun's heart. He was like a boiling kettle. One push, and he'd overflow to the ground.

"Are his legs broken or what?" The archer was like a feline cat, angry, ready to prowl, ready to pounce.

"Kim Minseok-"

"What? Just because his parents are richer than mine, he has it easier than me, is that it?"

The coach frowned, "That's not it-"

Minseok's hold tightened on his wrist, "Oh, is it your incapability as a coach then-?"

The pot was pushed. The water tumbled down.

Baekhyun was crying, tears rolling down as if they were never going to stop -

"It's because I'm pregnant!" He shouted, "It's not coach's fault, and my parents have nothing to do with it. Stop blindly accusing people!"

Silence.

"Minseok, listen to me-" The coach pleaded to the stupefied cat-eyed man but he was paid no heed. The deed was done, and it couldn't be reversed.

The water had been spilled.

And every sort of spill...was ugly.

Baekhyun's hand was released harshly, thrown away in disgust. Minseok had a grimace on his face, and his upper lip was pulled up. The repugnance on his face was more than obvious.

It was obvious that he thought of Baekhyun as something akin to garbage now, something alien, something harmful...

...something that needed to be eradicated from the world for good.

Humans feared the unknown, and it wasn't Baekhyun's fault that they never thought about the endless possibilities of life and existence before marking up the lines of what is known and what is not.

So, Kim Minseok was scared by the fact that he existed, and disgusted by his existence all the same. He sneered at him and glared at him and said -

"You don't even deserve to live, you bastard!" He shouted, because Baekhyun's existence  _ bothered  _ him so, so much, "A motherfucking carrier!"

And then he turned on his heels, and made his way out of the room, ignoring the coach's angry shouts about merit, value and honor because in the end, human beings were sociable creatures and they cared about social acceptance and social hierarchy more than the things a human stood for. This was so fucked up.

  
  


Baekhyun stood there on the spot. He was there physically, but his mind was somewhere far away. It seemed like a cloud had come overhead, and was pouring all its water on Baekhyun. It was upset too, by its baggage, and it just needed to place to pour everything out. But it felt guilty, because not only would the cloud make Baekhyun wet, it would also cast a shadow on his life and make everything darker.

But Baekhyun accepted it, allowed it to rain.

And he took it all in.

His tears wouldn't stop falling.

"Baekhyun," The coach said softly. He seemed to understand that the archer wasn't really there, "You should head home. It's already late."

The strong winds were trying to shoo the cloud away. They cared about Baekhyun, but the boy himself wanted it to rain. He shook his head -

"I should practice more," He wondered how he looked, between the tears cascading down his face and the confident tint in his voice, "I don't like the eights in my score."

The coach didn't say anything. The winds had passed.

"I don’t recommend it… but when can I ever stop you?"

_ You can't. Nobody can stop me. _

  
  
  


Chanyeol wasn't there at the grounds that day, and Baekhyun didn't understand if that made him happy or sad. Kim Minseok wasn't there either - he appeared to have left, like everybody else. In the solitude, Baekhyun picked up his bow, notching the arrows in and walked to the shooting spot, feeling his body fall into form on reflex. It was basically an inbuilt instinct in him.

The first arrow flew by, followed by the second. And then the third registered against the target.

None of them entered the 'five' mark. Baekhyun grit his teeth, and his feather touch hardened. This time he was going to get it. He picked the bow up and pulled the string back with an amazing amount of strength. The arrow flew - so very fast - but it didn't even hit the target. His shoulders were deflated, but he notched another arrow. He won't stop until he gets a ten.

And so there went so many arrows, flying one after another in quick succession. The intern-boy responsible for picking up all the arrows was racing up and down the ground, huffing. The arrows were like the pelts of the rain, filling Baekhyun's heart up with more and more sadness as they missed, missed and missed! He had stopped aiming at some point, and was just crazily shooting, as if he'd die if he didn't.

The boy was doubled over, "Baekhyun-shi! I think you need to take a break."

Annoyance sparked in him, like a quick cracker and he increased the pace of the arrows. The arrows were out right after he notched them. They flew everywhere, haywire. Some hit the other targets, some crashed on the ground, some flew upwards and formed a graceful arc. He shot, and shot and shot angrily - not even realizing that he was still crying.

And now, he just had regrets. He shouldn't have let the cloud rain over him. He should have been smarter, should have let the winds in. He was sobbing. The boy didn't know what to do - he kept running around -

_ "Baekhyun!" _

Suddenly, the world stopped. It seemed as if somebody had just pulled Baekhyun out from under the pouring cloud - as if his guardian had arrived. In that small moment, Baekhyun realized just what a mess he was. He reluctantly dropped his stance, staring at the target with deflated shoulders and a lost look in his eyes, feeling more lost than he looked.

There was a hand on his shoulder and he was turned around. In front of him stood Park Chanyeol. The artist only wore disbelief on his face.

"What...just what are you doing?"

Baekhyun sobbed once, and then he just couldn't stop crying. Immediately, he was caged in by two metal bands –  _ looked like the clouds had found the mountains, and they just wouldn’t let the sadness pass anymore. The mountains would force the clouds to cry all the rain away. _

__

And Baekhyun cried – he cried until he couldn’t. He didn’t notice Chanyeol asking the boy to leave, barely paid attention to the fact that he was now in the Coach’s office, now empty other than the two of them, didn’t even bother to think about how ugly he looked; he just didn’t care. He was so,  _ so  _ hurt. Anger was an emotion he liked to play with, but disgust…disgust was lower. He hated it, hated the way the word rolled out of his mouth – the grimace you had to make to say it.

Byun Baekhyun hated being weak and being inferior, but above all, he hated being repulsive.

“He – Kim Minseok-!” He tried to convey, to use his words, but all that came out was sobs, huffs and pants. He was so hurt.

Chanyeol ran his hands up and down his back. It was a grounding action, “Breathe, Baekhyun,  _ breathe.  _ Calm down.”

Baekhyun did calm down, mostly because everything hurt, but the tears were still spilling and small sobs bubbled from within his throat from time to time. They stayed in that silence for a while, with the droning of the cheap fan and Baekhyun’s sobs disturbing it.

“I – I’m not okay,” Baekhyun said after a while, “I’m not. I don’t think I – I’ll  _ ever  _ be.”

Chanyeol exhaled deeply. The vibration made Baekhyun’s toes tingle. Somehow, they were tangled up in each other, in close proximity.

“Chanyeol – I – I just-” Another sob ripped out of him followed by a series, “I – can’t!”

He was hugged, pulled in. Baekhyun had come to realize that Chanyeol wasn’t all that good with words, but that was okay because no words could ever solve this. No words would be enough, because words were just words. They’d dry up and fly in the wind. However, actions – Baekhyun’s body would remember these touches, feel the heat prickling on his skin for many hours.

They stayed like that for a while, before Baekhyun started speaking about what had occurred in the very room they were in. His speech was punched by awkward pauses, sobs and hiccups but Chanyeol didn’t interrupt and listened intently –  _ as if what Baekhyun was saying mattered.  _ And yeah, it mattered alright. People keep posting emo quotes on the internet, saying things like ‘what you’re saying matters,’ but they never cared to act out what they preached.

Typical human behavior.

And then he was done.

Chanyeol didn’t say anything for a while, Baekhyun didn’t know if he would say anything at all, didn’t know if he wanted him to say anything. After all, what could Chanyeol possibly say that would make whatever happened better? ‘Accept yourself?’ But how was he supposed to accept himself when at least three billion people thought of him as a lunatic and the other three didn’t really care.

But Chanyeol knew what to say –

“That’s some fucked up shit,” Chanyeol’s eyes were wide, expressive and, in that moment, he seemed really innocent. He looked at Baekhyun with something akin to a ‘whoa’ expression and it was the  _ pureness  _ that just tore a smile out of Baekhyun.

He laughed, “Yeah, it is. Sums up my life.”

“You’re the result of some fucked up shit.”

Baekhyun laughed again, “I’m the result of fucking, Chanyeol.”

And somehow, it wasn’t as bad as it was just minutes ago. It was bearable. Even if Baekhyun fucked around, he’d get up and fuck things up even more until they fuck up in the right way and the stars align. Yeah, he was fucked up.

Chanyeol sighed as he read over the message again. Ugh, he didn't want to show his face in front of a crowd, but who cared about that? Not the world. He got up from where he was perched up on the bed and moved out of his room, subconsciously juggling his phone from one hand to the other. Baekhyun was sitting outside on the dining table, tending to his bow, humming a low tune.

"You want me to play that song?" Chanyeol asked, taking a seat on a chair, lazily looking through his playlist, "I might have it here."

Baekhyun frowned, "Don't bother. I'd rather get this done and head to dinner. Which reminds me," He paused his actions and stared at Chanyeol with hopeful eyes, "What's for dinner?"

It was funny how they had quickly settled in with this pattern. It appeared that they had quickly discarded the idea of being enemies - it was way too tiring to regard your housemate with a certain level of hatred and contempt, so they had chosen the term 'frenemies' or rather 'enemies that were way too tired to show enmity.' Besides, they had been through way too much together in the past few days to pretend that they were just strangers that hated each other.

"Hey, Chan?" Baekhyun peered through his vision.

The nickname was definitely new, but Chanyeol decided not to comment.

He looked uncertainly at his cell and gulped, "Um, I don't know. I've been invited to some business party. Again."

Baekhyun raised an eyebrow, "Ah, really? Who's hosting it?"

"Just my father's business partners..."

The archer rolled his eyes, "Which one, Chan? I'm sure I know more than a hundred of your father's business partners."

Chanyeol hesitated before deciding that he didn't really care about Baekhyun that much -

"Your parents. The Byuns." Chanyeol took a sip of water. He avoided Baekhyun's eyes, "They're doing a property distribution thing among their heirs, or well, initiating it, so it's a very important function that I can't miss out on."

There was silence on the other side, so Chanyeol looked up to see Baekhyun gritting his jaw harshly. His eyes were red - out of anger, or because of tears, he didn’t really know. He looked  _ deadly. _

"Ah, they are?" The archer spat, "But I wasn't even informed, and other than me, they only have Baekbeom, so isn't it apparent that he's going to inherit all the property? What's the need for this?"

_ They were probably showing Baekhyun what he could have had,  _ but Chanyeol didn't say that. He merely coughed and continued, "Well, they did mention that because of their, and I quote, 'charitable personalities and interests’, they have come to the decision of gracing poor and needy children that are not favoured by society with their name,'" Chanyeol raised an eyebrow, "Basically they're trying to get media attention by doing charity."

Baekhyun's nose flared and the heat around them seemed to rise, "So they can help out 'needy children that are not favoured by society' but they can't help their own son who falls under the same category!?" The archer stood up, and his chair scratched the floor painfully, "What bullshit!"

Chanyeol didn't offer any consolation, because what Baekhyun was saying was true after all. 'Bullshit' was his first thought too, after reading the message sent his way. The Byuns really were snakes after all.

"Baekhyun," Chanyeol called out softly, "My parents have specifically asked me to attend, so I can't refuse. I'll leave in about thirty minutes. What will you eat? I should order it."

But the archer was having none of it. He shook his head childishly, "No, I don't want to eat. I want to starve and see if they'll care or not!"

Chanyeol rolled his eyes, "That's childish. And unhealthy for your child."

Baekhyun hesitated for a while, before he shook his head, "I don't care! They don't care about me. Why should I care about my child?"

The painter just shrugged and moved out of the dining room to get ready. He wasn't a babysitter. It wasn't his job to teach sense to adults that were about to become parents. However, when he was about to reach the door, Baekhyun stopped him -

"Chanyeol!"

The painter stopped and looked at Baekhyun with an inquiring look. The archer looked defeated. His shoulders drooped and there was a sad, accepting pout on his face.

"Order dinner for me, please. High carbs, high protein, low fat, low grease. I think that would be nice for both the baby and me."

Chanyeol cracked a small smile - a rare one, "That'll do."

When he finally exited the room, he thought -  _ Baekhyun's child will love him. _

  
  
  


The party was boring, or rather, there was nothing interesting about it. For any normal kid, the lavish, grand sight would be enough to make their eyes wide with wonder and amazement, but for Chanyeol...? For Chanyeol, it was his air - and just like any air in this century, it was polluted and disliked, but there was no other choice than to breathe.

He watched as the waltz music played and people went about their business - socialising with one another. He hated gatherings - there were so many sounds, thus so many colours that popped up in his vision, overwhelming his senses. He'd prefer silence with Baekhyun any day. Before Baekhyun moved in, Chanyeol didn't know 'silence' could be so comforting; but with Baekhyun it was. With the archer, the silence was coated with soft layers of cream and topped with a cherry - he relished in it. The archer also didn't expect Chanyeol to use his words. Actions were sufficient for him, and that was...just nice.

"Chanyeol!" There was a jab to his side, and he winced, "Pay attention! They're talking about the heirs now."

Park Chanyeol hadn't noticed - and wouldn't have noticed if his nice sister Yoora wouldn't have pointed out - the prestigious Byun couple, standing there with their son, Baekbeom, who looked flawless. They were talking about their plan -

"People, my friends," Mr. Byun was speaking, "are more important than any amount of wealth and any material, and Byun Stars, originally a charity group, has always respected that and kept that as our moral," Chanyeol tried hard not to snort, "It's a modern world, yet there are many people who are discriminated against, and today Byun Stars will announce its plans to give generous contributions to the people who aren’t favoured by society," The man kept talking about business details and numbers and figures that people around duly noted. Chanyeol just stared outside at the tantalising moonlight, thinking about the top fifty places he'd rather be in. The number one spot went to his home.

He was shaken back to reality when the people around him started clapping. He frowned and looked at the stage and, suddenly, his blood started to boil. There, on the stage, was displayed a huge projection screen, but that was okay. What wasn't okay was the content on it. One of the places which would get the 'charitable shares of important property' was The Society of Male Carriers. Hypocrisy at its finest. He clenched his fists, trying not to lash out as he heard the speech delivered by the Byuns.

"It is a sensitive topic to touch," Mr. Byun coughed, "However, we need to understand that any sort of people...are  _ people.  _ We should never discriminate against them because of their,  _ ah,  _ special features."

There was a frown on Mrs. Byun's face, but Chanyeol could have just imagined that.

"So, for the wellness of their kind, we have donated a fair amount of our charitable shares." He went on talking about the figures and numbers that Chanyeol had no interest in. He saw Yoora watching everything with upturned lips. The artist smirked. She clearly hated this as much as he did, but she  _ had  _ to be interested in all this, meanwhile for him, it was just courtesy.

Thus, Chanyeol figured, he could probably go hide in the back and nobody would notice.

But there was still the  _ little  _ chance that somebody  _ might  _ notice, and then what would he do? His breathing faltered as he felt everybody's attention on him - not that anybody was looking at him but he just couldn't help but feel like it... There was a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, and now people  _ were  _ looking at him. Shit. He turned to his side, only to see his mother.

"Mom, what are you even...?" He licked his lips nervously and straightened his silk sleeve. His heart was beating very fast.

His mother just smiled at him, "I felt that you were going to pass out, so I was just checking up on you."

Chanyeol sighed. The surroundings were overwhelming but his mother wasn’t helping in making anything better.

"I'm fine," He lied.

His mother just gave him a look, "I've known you for twenty years, Park Chanyeol."

He frowned, "I'm nineteen."

The lady shrugged, "Well, if the International law wishes to forget the nine months for which I carried you, it's their choice, but the Korean law recognizes you as twenty," She dusted her dress off, "As they should."

Chanyeol rolled his eyes. His mother was a true patriot in every sense, although she took it a little bit too far, so it seemed more like a joke.

The lights brightened around the room. Mr.Byun was talking about his heirs -

"We've had discussions and we've had talks, but it's fair to officially announce my son, Byun Baekbeom, as the official heir of Byun Stars." There was great applause, "The largest share of my company goes to him, and the parts that remain, goes to,"

Chanyeol bit his lip, waiting and hoping. It  _ had  _ to be Baekhyun.

"My son's chosen spouse!" The cheers were deafening, as a pretty white-skinned Korean beauty stepped out and stood shyly next to Baekbeom, as was expected of spouses, "Ha Ina, who has recently become the head of the Byun-Tech department." There was more talk about Ha Ina, and how nice and respectable she was, but Chanyeol couldn't care less. He couldn't believe that they'd rather pass property over to the fiance of their son, than to their other son, that they'd give shares to gay communities and male carriers communities but not to their own son. It was... _ baffling,  _ and sad. Mostly sad.

But in that moment, there was another issue in his mind. Chanyeol looked up ahead, his vision tunneling to see his sister. She stood there with a smile on her face, looking very attentive, but her eyes were already red.

Because, before Baekhyun came in on the bench, Chanyeol had already had connections to the Byun family.

Park Yoora was in a secret relationship with the heir of a rival company, Byun Baekbeom. And he'd really pulled this on her, huh? Chanyeol  _ seethed  _ with rage. The Byuns were snakes.

  
  
  
  


People walked in groups of twos and threes. Their stilettos and shoes clapped on the floor, as they walked in perfect posture, but Chanyeol was different. He moved forward, wanting to run, but not being able to, thus resorting to striding quickly, hoping nobody would notice him; which was asking for a lot, considering he had really, really tall legs.

Suddenly, a cold woman appeared in his vision and instinctively he slowed down. The woman curled her lips, amused by the power she held over this naive, little boy.

"Mrs. Byun," Chanyeol bowed a little.

The woman nodded at him, "Ah, Park Chanyeol, welcome, welcome!"

So fucking creepy. He just smiled awkwardly.

"So, do you like this -  _ ah -  _ gathering, Chanyeol?" She asked, her fingers curling upon the rim of her wine glass, showing off her manicured fingers. Chanyeol could see where Baekhyun got his pretty fingers from. It was one of his most noticeable features.

"I - it's a very pleasant gathering, extremely beautiful too," He said, pretending to admire the room, "The artwork oozes excellence, Mrs. Byun, but well, I wouldn't expect less from you."

Mrs. Byun raised her eyebrows, "You would need to reach a certain degree of success, Park Chanyeol, before you start harbouring expectations from, well, people who are above you."

He took a sharp intake of breath. This woman really had no filter. He wanted to come up with a good comeback but he was too afraid, so all he could do was smile awkwardly.

"Now, now, don't be sad," She chidded, "Who knows, maybe one day the stars will fall and our little Chanyeollie will finally be better than most? Right?" She laughed, but it wasn't funny to Chanyeol.. It hadn't been funny for the past ten years and it wasn't funny now. His eyes were stinging.

The wretched lady just smiled cruelly at him, before making her exit, leaving Chanyeol standing there with nothing but...crushed hopes and dreams. He almost laughed, because it was a very familiar emotion. He knew he was worthless as nicely as the world did.

But he needed to check up on somebody, somebody that was more important than him.

His footsteps quickened again, moving around blindly, in search for one person. But he couldn't find her. He was just about to give up when he came across a seemingly empty moonlit hallway - which turned out  _ not  _ to be empty . Alarms went off in his head and he stopped entirely as he looked at the silhouette of a couple - a broken couple. 

He took in a sharp breath and then immediately quietened down, interested in listening to the exchange. Yoora was crying - and it hurt Chanyeol.

"I - I don't have anything to say," She was crying.

Baekbeom didn't say anything. His face was ashen, but that could be the moonlight. For some reason, he looked more upset -

"I'm sorry, Yoora," A tear slid down his eye, "You told me you hated me, and I couldn't fight my parents."

Yoora sobbed, "You should have -  _ why didn't you chase me? Why didn't you wait?" _

Baekbeom stuttered. His voice was cracking, "I-I wanted to - I -  _ you know I did!"  _ He sobbed loudly. Pale green flashed in his vision. The pale moonlight was filled with pain, drowning in their cries. Was Chanyeol the moonlight, watching everything yet saying nothing? This conversation could be forgotten, if both Yoora and Baekbeom wished to forget it, but it would never  _ vanish _ because Chanyeol was listening. In that manner, the floor, the air, the wind and the stars, they were all were listening.

It wouldn't be forgotten.

It would just be forgiven.

"But why -  _ why do you care about your damned family so much?  _ Lies, and power - corrupted family!" Yoora shouted loudly. She had always been the braver one in the family. She outshone Chanyeol,  _ always. _

"Yoora - I couldn't - after what Baekhyun did - my father would  _ die!"  _ Baekbeom gasped, "I needed to hold everything up. They needed  _ one  _ child to not fight against, one - one child who'd be responsible! After Baekhyun, they needed support. I couldn't throw it all away, for love, and you had left me..." His voice mellowed out in the end, and he started crying, "If - if Baekhyun had been the perfect child, I would have been your perfect lover, but I can't be both. I'm sorry. Yoora, I'm sorry."

There was silence. Chanyeol decided he'd heard enough, so he quietly made his way out. His footsteps were quiet  but his mind wasn't. It was a jumbled mess of troubling emotions that didn't want to calm down. The heat spread across his skin - his body was a poorly wired machine. It overheated so fast. He was so useless.

Once he went back to where the party was happening, he felt lightheaded and overwhelmed. He decided to sit by the window to calm himself down. He was tired. He admired the scenery outside, thinking about Baekhyun to distract himself - that little dumb kid was a  _ pretty  _ good distraction. The funny thing about Baekhyun was how much of a Gryffindor he was! The archer was  _ so  _ impertinent and so very bold. He could have been a Slytherin, but his ideology for life was a complete package of bravery. That boy had no sense of self-preservation and was so utterly stupid. Ah, how Chanyeol hated him.

He didn't know it but he was smiling.

However, a familiar figure interrupted his thoughts. He immediately rose up from his seat, and made his way towards his true companion for life - his sister, Park Yoora. She looked pretty and reserved, yet he could see the underlying pain in her eyes that most people weren't interested enough to see.

"Yoora," He intercepted her path, "Wait. I need to talk to you."

The girl just shook her head, "I - I don't want to Chanyeol. I'll see you later." But Chanyeol was taller and he used that ability to its best. He intercepted her again-

"I heard that conversation in the hallway," He blushed a little, "I didn't mean to but I had been looking for you. I heard that and I know you're not fine."

Her eyes welled up with tears once again. She was so close to the edge. It seemed as if one push would be enough to send her tumbling down an endless well of pain - but Chanyeol had to try and be the rope that would pull her back up. He had to stop the pain - everyone's pain, except his own.

"Let's leave this place," He suggested, "Let's go back to our place. Let's talk and cry and shout."

  
  
  
  


The door opened and then shut. Baekhyun perked up from his seat on the bed, and put the book he’d been reading aside. Chanyeol must be home, and Baekhyun wanted to hear all about the party and his parents, because no matter how much he hated them now, he was still their biological son and he  _ had  _ spent seventeen years of his nineteen year long life with them. Of course, he  _ had  _ to care a little, even if his parents didn’t.

Footsteps made their way across his room. Baekhyun frowned. He’d assumed that Chanyeol would talk to him - since it had been his parent’s party, but the artist seemed to have no intention of doing that. Baekhyun still waited patiently - patience was the bow of an archer after all. The clock ticked but the artist didn’t appear. Baekhyun got up from the bed after a long while, and made his way towards Chanyeol’s room. He rasped his knuckles against the door, and opened it when he heard a soft ‘Come in!’

Chanyeol was sitting in front of his easel, holding his palette up. There was a new canvas that he was painting. Baekhyun gasped as he stared at the painting - normally Chanyeol drew some very amazingly weird artistic pieces which were semi-abstract, but this - this was a  _ true  _ beauty. A girl dressed in a beautiful white gown standing with a boy, dressed like a prince. They looked elegant. Their faces weren’t detailed yet as Chanyeol was busy drawing that background - and oh, how pretty it was. Moonlight peeked from the windows in his drawing and there were stars in the sky - yet the stars were coloured in different colours. There were crystals on the ground. It was only then that Baekhyun realized - it was a heartbreaking picture. The stars were dying - pale colours mixing in the black, giving away to hopelessness, while the crystals on the ground were tears that skidded past the girl’s dress and crashed on the ground. 

What could better represent an artist than his art?

Baekhyun walked towards Chanyeol and immediately, his hands wrapped around the artist. Chanyeol froze in his hold -

“What are you doing?”   
  


“You’re sad,” Baekhyun whispered, “What happened?”   
  


Chanyeol didn’t respond. He continued to paint. Baekhyun waited before prompting - 

“Did my family-”

“The Byuns are snakes, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol said through clenched teeth and turned his head to glare at Baekhyun with his red, angry eyes, “ _ Snakes. _ ”

Baekhyun stiffened, “What did they do?” 

Chanyeol didn’t say anything. He only glared at the archer - there was unadulterated hatred and anger and pain in his eyes.  _ Miserable.  _ Was this misery directed towards him or was it for his family?

Baekhyun lay his hand on his stomach, a habit he’d developed whenever he was in search of comfort. It was appeasing to think about the baby he had within him - at least, he’d never be alone. It reminded him of a song, an American song. Baekhyun smiled subconsciously and moved towards the music system Chanyeol had in his room. The artist’s eyes followed him but Baekhyun paid no heed to that and started playing the song. 

Immediately, the sharp guitar tug had Chanyeol flinching, and the artist went back to painting. Baekhyun frowned - he wanted Chanyeol to listen to the song, so he started singing it. 

_ She was 19 with a baby on the way _

_ On the EastSide of the city, she was working every day _

_...tell herself that it's alright _

_ She was waiting on the day she hoped her baby would arrive _

_ She'd never be alone _

_ Have someone to hold _

_ And when nights were cold _

_ She'd say _

_ The world's not perfect, but it's not that bad _

_ If we got each other, and that's all we have _

_ I will be your mother, and I'll hold your hand _

_ You should know I'll be there for you _

Baekhyun’s hand had slipped to his stomach - he was worried, yes, if he’d be a good parent, because  _ his  _ parenting wasn’t that great. But somehow, he knew that he’d love the child, with all he had, with all the love that he had never received before. 

Chanyeol was listening to him, yet still painting, adding colours to the background - yet Baekhyun noticed with a smile that the colours were becoming more lovely - nothing really happy, but instead of the paler shades, they were bolder now -  _ red.  _ He begrudgingly noticed that most of the recent paintings Chanyeol had made were red. He must really like the colour - at least Baekhyun did. 

_ They had pictures on the walls of all the memories that they'd made _

_ And though life was never easy, they were thankful that they stayed _

_ With each other, and though some times were hard _

The second verse of the song talked about lovers - that were ninety years old and still in love. Baekhyun used to sing out that part with  _ his  _ ex-lover - at that point, he’d used to listen to this song because of this verse, and not the first one. 

Now, it was quite unrelatable. There were no happy pictures, no memories, only betrayal. He tried not to be affected by focusing on Chanyeol’s painting, the graceful flick with which the artist would lower the brush into the red paint and his deftness and technique while using the knives to mix the colours - his mother painted with her back straight, a regal smile on her face. She painted still-life, and art pieces that were perfect. But Chanyeol - he painted life with all its imperfections. Art pieces could be pictures too...But Baekhyun would never stay. 

_ I'm 23, and my folks are getting old _

_ I know they don't have forever and I'm scared to be alone _

Chanyeol’s back straightened up. 

_ So I'm thankful for my sister, even though sometimes we fight _

He stopped painting. 

_ When high school wasn't easy, she's the reason I survived _

_ I know she'd never leave me, and I hate to see her cry _

_ So I wrote this verse to tell her that I'm always by her side _

He reeled back and stared at the painting and in an instant, Baekhyun felt the difference. When Chanyeol looked at him - the angry haze from his eyes had swept away and there was only  _ insecurity  _ and  _ pain.  _

_ When the world's not perfect, when the world's not kind _

_ If we have each other then we'll both be fine _

“Chanyeol-ah,” Baekhyun said carefully, “You can tell me. I know it’s bothering you.”

_ You should know I'll be there for you _

The song ended and there was still silence for a while, ragged by their breaths, when Chanyeol said - 

“Sit,” 

Obedience wasn’t one of Baekhyun’s traits, but ordering someone wasn’t one of Chanyeol’s either, thus taking into account that this was something different, varying from their usual routine, he sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“It was a bad day, Baekhyun,” The archer refrained from saying something like ‘Yeah, I got that.’

Chanyeol continued, “Your family gave ‘charitable shares of important property’ to the communities and help-centres meant for - now what did your father say? - yeah, people unfavoured or discriminated against the society. He said it was a sensitive topic but people were people and shouldn’t be hated just because of their special features,” He gauged Baekhyun’s reaction - the archer seemed unbothered, “He gave a lot of shares to The Society of Male Carriers.”

Something shifted in Baekhyun’s jaw but that was the only reaction Chanyeol got, “Go on.”

“He announced the heirs - the official heir is your brother,” Baekhyun’s eyes were expectant and Chanyeol hesitated before blurting out the rest, “And well, the next one is...Ha Ina.”

He pretended not to see the crestfallen look upon Baekhyun’s face, “Isn’t she from...the Byun-Tech…?”

“She’s also your brother’s fiance.”

That definitely got a reaction out of him, “What?!” Baekhyun’s eyes were wide, “He got engaged?”

Chanyeol bit his lip, “Yeah.”

“He didn’t...tell me,” 

“I figured.”

“And I didn’t think he’d get engaged to...her.”

“Then who else?”

There was a spark before he said, “Park Yoora…”

Silence. Chanyeol tried not to lash out at Baekhyun - the archer was undeserving of his anger, “I’d get to that. Next, I met your mother.”

Baekhyun groaned, “I already apologize.”

“Hmm, she said I’d become successful one day.”

  
Baekhyun perked up, “She did?”

“When the stars fall from the sky.”

Baekhyun tried hard not to snort. His mother was really something else. 

“And the highlight of the day,” Chanyeol smiled but it was a twisted smile, “I got to see my sister crying and fighting with your brother, in an abandoned hallway, and what a dick he sounded like.”

Baekhyun stopped. He listened. 

“She left him because he was  _ very _ family-oriented , but he didn’t chase her, and soon after, he got engaged to someone else. What a wonderful story - the perfect tragedy.” 

Baekhyun shifted, “But - Baekbeom, I know you’ll find it hard to believe, but he  _ loved  _ your sis.”

“Clearly not enough,” Chanyeol said angrily - he was angry and he was hurt. They Byuns were  _ ruining  _ all their lives and here he was, housing their youngest, “He was focused on being the ‘perfect child’ for his parents, said he couldn’t leave them, not after what you did. Told her if you were the perfect child, he’d be the perfect lover for her - but you weren’t and he couldn’t be. Is it a trait in your family to always hurt the people around you?”

In hindsight, Chanyeol should not have said all this. Baekhyun wasn’t deserving of his anger, yet anger had to go somewhere.

“Your mother took away my childhood, made me feel like some unworthy piece of shit and I still feel that way. Your nice little father is the fakest man I’ve ever met - remember when my dad was bothered by his rather cold business techniques and cut ties? And then what happened? They threatened to reveal my sexuality. Low, isn’t it?”   
  


“I didn’t - I didn’t know that.”

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows, “How couldn’t you? You were the one that told them.”

He didn’t give Baekhyun time to answer. He knew he was right and continued, “Your brother made snide remarks about my family in meetings but was dating my sister behind closed doors and you - you shat on me since you learned about my sexuality and always bullied the people around you and now, look at you,” He laughed, “You’ve become exactly what you made fun of and said you’ll never be -  _ at my expense. _ ”

Baekhyun got up and left the room, closing the door with a resounding bang. Chanyeol felt good. For the first time, he was ecstatic. He wanted to crawl over to Baekhyun’s door, open it and taunt him all night long. He wanted to take revenge for every time the Byuns had hurt someone. He would be happy if Baekhyun cried because apologies weren’t going to cut it - this  _ thing  _ that he was - this thing that hated himself, cried himself to sleep, wanted to burn his paintings and had no confidence in himself was the result of several events. 

And one of them was the Byuns. He’d take revenge for that. He wanted to.

He’d take care of his sister, because she was just like him - caught in the web of a Byun, and then pushed away. 

He freaking  _ hated  _ Byun Baekhyun.

Hated him because he was the first person Chanyeol had ever loved. 

Hated him even more because he was the first person to ever have his heart, and the first to shatter it completely. 


	4. 3

#  3

Pause. 

A pungent pause.

Time went by but they were on pause. It had been three days since that night. Neither Baekhyun nor Chanyeol had said a word to each other and it seemed that it would take another three decades before they did. The first night Baekhyun had cried alone and considered moving out. He’d been hurt but more than that it was the regret that laced his being. He understood. For the first time, he had to be the understanding one, and he understood. 

They could never be friends. 

They were either archenemies or lo- but no, that could never happen. 

It’s better if they stayed as enemies. 

Over time, Baekhyun had learnt to trust Chanyeol. He had grown to like the thick smell of his paints. He had got used to being excited over the prospect of viewing the artist’s paintings and playing songs with him. He liked showing Chanyeol everything about archery, talking to him about books, and even the randomest of things. 

Over time, he’d grown to care. 

And he’d grown to understand that he’d hate being hated by Chanyeol. But he had to face the fact that fire was never just a friend - it was either big, sparked by vengeance or it was strong, powerful and comforting. It could never just...be there. Fire demanded attention. He understood that their history would never permit them to just move on, because even if Chanyeol forgave him, he’d never forget, not until the scars permeated by Baekhyun vanished.

  
And that would never happen. 

Everytime Chanyeol would feel like he didn’t matter, he’d get reminded of Baekhyun. The archer would be tied to his deepest, darkest insecurities, tied to all his misery and pain and hurt. He’d forget Baekhyun until the pain disappeared but until then, every time he ached he’d get reminded of the archer. And how, just how could Baekhyun be so selfish, so uncaring to put Chanyeol on a test of time to see when he’d snap by tainting not only his mind, but also his house, so that every time he’d see Baekhyun he’d get reminded of his pain. 

It was a two-way connection. Baekhyun was tied to his pain and misery and the appearance of one would automatically remind him of the other. It was for the best that the archer left. And he’d tried - but only to be stopped by his own selfish desires. 

He had one more match to prove himself. With every day, he got closer to his delivery, closer to the Olympics. And now, his parents had publicly not announced him as an heir - he couldn’t go back. His brother had a fiance, Kyungsoo was poor and everybody else would keep telling him to go and get an abortion. 

He didn’t need the mental pressure, didn’t want to work hard, otherwise he’d be so focused on keeping himself warm that he’d fail at conquering his dreams. 

And he didn’t want to leave Chanyeol. Ironically, the artist was the only person he could trust, his only friend. 

Why was he such a sadist?

But Baekhyun had to be selfish for himself, for his child, and maybe, for Chanyeol too. He didn’t leave. The next morning, Chanyeol didn’t comment on his appearance. He didn’t kick him out, but he didn’t make a gesture to make Baekhyun feel welcomed either, not that he was expected to. The artist’s lack of appearance on the archery grounds definitely made him upset but Baekhyun understood. The lack of laughter, talks and jokes bothered him, as if he was holding onto a dying flame - a literal one. Maybe… just maybe, this was how it would be. Maybe, they would never go back to the way they were. 

And he couldn’t blame Chanyeol. It was all his fault. 

They said karma bit back, with interest. He’d never paid attention to that in the past. He was way too busy being a conceited bitch with a successful career, and now both had withered down - the bitch in him and his successful career. He was more vulnerable than ever, pure. Everything that people saw now was everything that he was. There was no filter. For now, he was just hurt and regretful, trying to work hard. 

He missed Chanyeol. 

Even though Chanyeol was in the very next room, painting something. Baekhyun had once taken a glance at them and he’d been disappointed. The artist was drawing still life images shaded in cool, pale tones of blue. He’d never liked the colour blue, much, just like he’d never liked water much. Water, in his opinion, was pretentious. The sea pretended to be calm, welcoming and beautiful...until it stormed and flooded heartlessly upon thousands of lives. 

Fire on the other hand - fire was all that it stood for. High, tall, flaming,  _ powerful _ . It was destructive but it was just how it was.

Baekhyun wanted to be like that. He thought Chanyeol was like that, but now he realized - they were both like the earth, with layers upon layers of hurt, pain, and regret that they hadn’t acted upon. And Baekhyun remembered something he’d read in a book - The Silent Patient - 

_ Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive, and will come forth later, in uglier ways - Sigmund Freud.  _

The book had made it seem like an exchange - the pain you went through comes out. It had to. And it will. There was only a thread tying Chanyeol down to himself. One day he’d snap at Baekhyun - he should. And Baekhyun swore to himself that the day it will happen, he’ll still be by Chanyeol’s side. 

It was his fault. He’d take responsibility. 

  
  
  


Three days became a week. The silence was unbearable. Each day brought Baekhyun more trouble as the pregnancy showed itself in the form of morning sickness, and slight swelling in his feet. He was embarrassed when he had to ask Chanyeol for money to buy medicine for constipation - the artist had handed it to him without passing any comment. That had been the only conversation they had had. Sometimes, after harsh practice he’d feel really dizzy but after he’d run Coach through his suggested diet-plan given by his doctor, and started drinking juice and feeding himself after every hour of practice, he’d been feeling better. 

Junmyeon and Kyungsoo’s stares permeated him though. They were probably wondering why his intake was so huge. They didn’t know he was carrying two stomachs in him. Minseok had been glaring at him, or showing his disgust, but he hadn’t spread anything for which Baekhyun was truly grateful. 

He’d been feeling really lonely for the past few days - Chanyeol had left a gap into his being, making him unbelievably sad, but he’d just crossed his feelings out as mood swings, even though he knew the truth. That day, they were scheduled for a check-up. Chanyeol had been the one who drove him and stayed with him through all the check-ups, but this time, it seemed Baekhyun would have to manage on his own. But he didn’t know how. He didn’t have money to hail a cab and or to pay for the check-up, and how was he supposed to get there? It was way too far…

He had  _ nothing _ . 

At first, he’d been angry at Chanyeol for insinuating that he was at his mercy, but now he was shaken out of the last cloud of the image of him standing tall, proud - a  _ Byun _ , merciless, cold, with everything one could possibly want. The image went up in flames two years ago. He’d just been slow to admit that. He was, of course, at Chanyeol’s mercy now. It was time to discard his pride - all the pride related to his family’s money and wealth that had secured him in the past. But now, he was only allowed to have pride in the things he owned - like his archery skills. 

And this pride - it had to be deserved. He couldn’t play eights and nines and call himself a victor. He had to aim for the tens.

For now, Byun Baekhyun had no pride. It hurt, and it stung. He felt that he was growing up too fast, as if everything that he was was fake. Now, the ‘Byun’ from his name was basically gone - he was just Baekhyun now, nothing very special. He cried that morning as thoughts like these impregnated his mind and swirled around. It was the loneliness, the pregnancy symptoms - he said over and over again. But somehow, it was very different. He felt like he’d been hanging on a deep, never-ending pit and the last thread that he’d been holding on, feeling false hope and security, had just been pulled away from him. And now, he was tumbling deeper and deeper…but he didn’t want to crash. 

His door opened, and Baekhyun flinched at the sound. His eyes darted to the door, and his mouth fell ajar as he saw Chanyeol, with a jacket, looking down at him -

“Get ready.”

The first words after five days. 

“What -”

“Hurry up,” The taller looked at the watch, “Your appointment is at six.”

It seemed like he’d caught a branch in the pit and climbed on top of the branch.  _ Safe.  _

  
  
  
  


The ride wasn’t anything special. Chanyeol didn’t say a word, but Baekhyun couldn’t help but hum with happiness. He didn’t feel any enmity radiating from Chanyeol. In fact, the taller boy seemed quite pleased and his positivity was affecting Baekhyun too. Or maybe it was the hormones, but who knew? Day6’s ‘Hi Hello’ played in the car, flooding it with goodness. Music was a form of therapy in itself.

And damn, these days Baekhyun  _ felt  _ that he needed therapy. For some reason, he just - no, he wasn’t going to think about it and upset himself more. He, instead, turned to Chanyeol with a big smile - 

“Thank you,” 

Chanyeol frowned. He didn’t ask, but the question was in the air.  _ For what? _

Baekhyun had no shame when he said, “For taking care of me!”

The car almost lurched over. Chanyeol’s eyes widened as he stared at Baekhyun who was concerned about him, yet booming up with a weird happy energy.  _ Was this another one of his ploys?  _ If so, Chanyeol wouldn’t fall for it. Feelings that were dead would remain dead. He focused on the road again. 

  
  
  


“Oh -  _ oh - I - oh my -  _ CHANYEOL, LOOK AT IT!” Chanyeol tried not to smile, but Baekhyun’s reaction was really amusing. He was looking at a CT scan of his baby - now the tiny little toes and hands and ears and shut eyes were visible and distinct. The baby was so small, so tiny. The archer was  _ really  _ freaking out, “It -  _ it is so...small.  _ My baby…”

He went on pointing out the toes and the developing fingers and what not. Baekhyun would be a really great parent. The pure sight made Chanyeol’s hurt dissipate and he noted to feed Baekhyun out - whatever the smaller would desire. He deserved that for working so hard.  _ Thank you for taking care of me.  _ Chanyeol had to admit - he hated Baekhyun, and yet...he liked taking care of him. Ugh -  _ he hated Baekhyun. He hated Baekhyun. He hated Baekhyun! _ _   
  
_

And yet, he couldn’t help but smile as he watched him. The doctor was pretty amused too -

“Now, now, Baekhyun, did you hear the rest?”

Baekhyun blinked at her, “Yes?”

“Have you been experiencing any...chest pain?”

“Umm...I haven’t paid much attention but I sure feel heaviness in my chest when I lift my bow,” The doctor nodded. 

“Nothing too brutal?”

Baekhyun thought about it and then shook his head, “No.”

She smiled, “Looks like you’re managing your hormones well. I’d expect an athlete’s hormones to go haywire earlier, but I see what you meant when you said archery is similar to yoga,” Baekhyun nodded, “Anyway, probably not now, but gradually you will develop breasts.”

There was a blush on Baekhyun’s cheeks - “I suppose, yes.”

“In males, the hormones around pregnancy are wilder than in females. Thus, your breast formation will be quick...and uh, probably a little painful.”

“Oh…”

“It won’t affect your archery - not a lot - but I suppose wearing heavier chest clothes will help you gain experience and improve your archery, so will adding layers over your stomach.”

“I see.”

“Hmm...other than that, your hormone levels are manageable, as for your emotions - I’d suggest joining a group therapy with other pregnant males? It would help you calm down. It’s not necessary but I think you’d be extremely stressed with things...it’s just a suggestion, nothing serious. Other than that, you need to maintain your diet - the new one. Eat regularly and be hydrated at all times, okay? The nutrient chart and the medicine table must be followed too. If you feel any discomfort, call me. Take no risks. Okay?”

Baekhyun nodded.

“That would be all,” Dr.Ah handed him everything.

  
  
  


“I was thinking we could eat out today,” Chanyeol said as they walked back to the car. Baekhyun raised his eyebrows -

“Wow, you talk.”

Chanyeol didn’t comment, “What do you want to eat?”

Baekhyun pondered for a while, “We could go to Jaksal? I haven’t been there in a while.”

Chanyeol hummed, “We can, but you won’t eat anything there, anyway, except salad. Is there anything you’re craving?”

Baekhyun licked his lips, “Uhm - meat sounds really good right now…”

  
  
  


The archer watched the Barbeque place with saliva dripping down his mouth. How he had missed eating good food every day - ah! Chanyeol and he walked inside and he took a deep breath. The fumes of the food - so delicious. He could already taste the texture of the bulgogi, and the hot, melting flesh on his mouth, and the crisp vegetables and spicy, hot sauces. He was so freaking hungry. 

The interior of the place was welcoming and nice. There was a pretty brown wallpaper and wood furnishing and lanterns hanging down from the ceiling. The smoke in the place made it hazy, but the potted plants balanced the darkness out. They took one corner. Chanyeol ordered and Baekhyun waited there, like an obedient puppy. He felt...happy. This was happiness, right? Alarms went off in his head, but he ignored them. 

“It’s been a long time since I last came here,” Chanyeol’s eyes swept across the wooden perimetre. His eyes seemed hazy, as if he was thinking about the past, or maybe it was just the smoke. 

Baekhyun cocked his head on his hands, “Yeah?”

“The last time I came here was three years ago,” Chanyeol’s eyes found his, and there was a spark, “I had got my first art piece in the gallery.”

“What was it called?”

“It had a simple name.”

Baekhyun looked at him and the way Chanyeol pronounced the three-letter word made him believe that while the name was simple, the meaning and the thought behind it was not -

“ _ Red.”  _

  
  
  


The pause had been lifted. They talked about casual things - groceries, people, careers. It was like embracing the house which was once yours - comfortable, yet so eerie, waiting for the  _ knot  _ in the thread of your relationship to make its appearance. 

Once the food appeared, they didn’t care much. Chanyeol drank a little alcohol while Baekhyun stuck to juice. He didn’t care a lot about the drinks though - not when there was so much fleshy meat in front of him. Chanyeol did the job of cooking and serving them onto his plate, and Baekhyun let him. Little by little, the barriers came down and the conversation shifted towards the darker sides - about Yoora, and about family. The artist recounted the events that had taken place that day, albeit more calmly. 

“So, you went somewhere to comfort her?” Baekhyun popped a huge piece of hot meat into his mouth and immediately chased for water.

Chanyeol’s lips twitched, “Yeah, we have a secret place.”

“Oh really?”

“Uh-huh. When we were younger, do you remember the community service we’d been forced to attend and how you completely hated it?”

“I hated talking to people,” Baekhyun defended himself, “I was fine with performing for them or entertaining them, but honestly I wasn’t the most patient person back then.”

“Yeah, you weren’t,” Chanyeol mused, “Anyway, I spent my days painting the walls there and decorating it. And remember the terrace and how windy it was?”

Baekhyun’s eyes flickered downwards.  _ That damn terrace… _

Chanyeol thankfully didn’t comment on that and make it awkward for them, “Anyway, Yoora and I spent many days on top of that terrace. Even when the community closed down and the building was in a dilapidated state, we kept sneaking there. Now, it’s an apartment complex for college students, but we still go there. The terrace is closed down to everybody else. We kinda rented it.”

Baekhyun raised his eyebrows, “You sure spend money on weird things.”

“I don’t spend money at all - unless it’s something important for me. Let it be weird,” His tone was kind of defensive so Baekhyun didn’t push things further. 

There was a beat of silence before Chanyeol asked, “How were the two years after you ran away from home?”

“Hmm, it wasn’t really  _ climaxed, _ but definitely an eye-opening experience. My boyfriend -  _ ex-boyfriend -  _ he wasn’t really rich. We had a two-bedroom apartment - you know the basic structure going around these days. We slept in one bedroom and the other was our study,” There was a wistful smile on Baekhyun’s face and his eyes were distant, the meat burning on the grill but he wasn’t focused on it, “He is an audio-mixer so we had plenty of fun dancing around and had these  _ routines  _ \- I’d cook on the weekends, and mornings, and he’d cook dinner. He’d do most of the physical work since I was already so tired and I’d manage the finances and he’d drop me to my class before heading to his work.

“He had many friends and we partied a lot. I was used to ballrooms and suits but he brought to me a new world filled with friends, bars, clubs, DJs and every day was so exciting. We used to do the cringiest shit on birthdays and other holidays. It was...exhilarating.”

Chanyeol’s heart ached for some reason, and no, it wasn’t Baekhyun’s pain. It was his own. Smoke arose from the burning meat and the archer scurried to pop it to his mouth as fast as possible. Chanyeol would have laughed if he didn’t feel like his heart was suddenly leaden. 

Baekhyun was in love with the man.

He cleared his throat, “Do you...still love him?”

The sounds around them faded into the background at once. Two hesitant, uncertain eyes met each other. A fire lingered in the pits of their stomachs. A fire that needed to be extinguished.

“It’s...complex, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun said, “I’ve learnt that sometimes we need to stop thinking about our feelings and look at the bigger picture. We can’t change circumstances.”

The tone in which he said it reminded Chanyeol of the moonlight hitting two heartbroken figures, “You sound like your brother.”

Baekhyun sighed, “I can’t help it. You may call my brother an idiot, a snake or whatever pleases you, but you can’t deny the fact that he’s practical. And in a hopeless world like this, only the realistic and practical, strong-minded people will survive.”

_ But that’s not the point!  _ Chanyeol wanted to shout.  _ There are greater, bigger things than survival and a secured life.  _ If Baekhyun’s ex had shown him a glimpse of love, he’d shown it the wrong way. Love was calm yet ferocious. It was tentative yet bold. Tranquil yet wild. Love was equally being happy with the calm that a person provided and still fighting for the things you believed in. 

People who lived in caution would  _ still  _ die, even it they took cautions. The end result was the same after all.

_ Love was greater than survival.  _

Baekhyun just hadn’t experienced love in the right way. 

Chanyeol wanted to laugh at himself - who was he to talk about love when it was one thing he’d been deprived of all his life? Baekhyun clearly had more ‘love points’ than he ever did. And yet...as Chanyeol took in Baekhyun’s glazed eyes, and distant look, he wondered if things could have been different for Baekhyun.

If it had been  _ him  _ instead of that ex, would things have been different?

Chanyeol’s blood froze. Why did he just think of that? He shouldn’t have. He had no right to. He didn’t want to. He bit his lip. He should just maintain his distance - Byun Baekhyun wasn’t a friend. 

Baekhyun seemed to feel the negative mood radiating from Chanyeol. He stood up, “Uhm - I’ll go to the washroom for a bit.”

Chanyeol didn’t even glance at him and Baekhyun wondered if he had heard, but when he made to move out, the artist shifted to give him space. Strange. Baekhyun moved to the washroom, stopping only once when he heard something... _ familiar.  _ But he had heard that voice many times in the past, in his head, so he moved on. 

Washrooms normally stood for claustrophobic scenes, however, once Baekhyun locked himself in, he felt like he could finally breathe. The atmosphere outside was...dangerous. The heat prickled his skin and his nerves just couldn’t sit right. His brain was in danger mode. His instincts screamed at him to run - but from what? He didn’t know. He splashed water on his face but it only made him more alert. His heart couldn’t settle. A familiar blob rose up his throat and Baekhyun leaned over the toilet and threw up, feeling tears streaming down his face. Throwing up wasn’t really graceful.

Once he was done, he floated on his feet. Relief and light-headedness flooded through his veins. His head was swimming, as if he were drunk. And yet, the alarm bells and his nerves didn’t relax. He gritted his teeth -  _ let’s just go and enjoy for once Byun Baekhyun. Stop thinking.  _

Easy to say, hard to act out. 

Once Baekhyun stepped out, he tried to put on a smile. Maybe, it would help his sinking heart. 

He walked closer to the table, and the ringing increased in amplitude. This was it. He was crazy. His heartbeat was fast - way faster than a normal pregnant man’s and that was fast enough. Suddenly, as if his vision had tunneled, he saw  _ him.  _ Baekhyun stopped. His mind stopped. Everything stopped.  _ He  _ was standing there, holding the hand of a lady, whose hand was placed upon her stomach. The lady was holding a bag from FirstBaby - from where  _ they  _ had planned to get  _ their  _ baby goods. Something broke - it was his heart. Somehow, he knew as he looked over the couple - that they were a couple. His feet raced on its own. No, no! He couldn’t do this anymore. 

“Baekhyun, are you okay?” he could hear Chanyeol’s deep voice. It didn’t comfort him though, only confused him more. He forced himself to look - right, he was at their table. And they were near him - 

“Baekhyun?” Chanyeol’s hand reached out and the archer froze.

“We need to leave,” He said, grabbing the hand and pulling Chanyeol up with surprising strength, “We need to leave, now!” 

Chanyeol furrowed his brows, “But we haven’t even touched the desert, yet-”

“You don’t  _ understand!”  _ He hissed. He just wanted to shout but that would attract attention. He needed to leave, “Please, let’s just go. Hurry. Please.”

Chanyeol’s eyes were wide but he nodded and called for the bill. The waitress was equally as confused -

“Sir, do you want me to pack this up-?”

Baekhyun wanted to gnaw his hair out and run away from this place. He didn’t want to be proven right. Chanyeol looked at him -

“No, no. My companion feels really sick.”

She started saying something again but Baekhyun was quicker. He got up and pulled Chanyeol away. 

“What - what’s wrong with you?” Chanyeol asked and now his voice was laced with anger and maybe, maybe a little bit of repulsion. And oh, how horrible it felt, but Baekhyun couldn’t care less. He’d die if he didn’t leave. He would. 

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Was he crying?

Chanyeol didn’t say anything and Baekhyun thought - fine, we’ll make it out. He won’t see me. But just then,  _ just at that damned moment he’d allowed himself to hope,  _ a familiar voice called out for him and his heart pained. Goddammit!

“Baekhyun?” 

His feet stopped of their own accord even when every single cell just wanted to run away.  _ That’s  _ how much power  _ he  _ had over Baekhyun - how much belief he had in the lies and promises. He’d thought they’d built a castle and that it was okay, but only now he realises that it was a castle of cards and all it took was one gust of wind to knock it all down. 

“Heechul,” Baekhyun breathed out, already emotional, already missing the warmth of him. He didn’t care what would happen next. He gave no fucks about Chanyeol, not one fuck about the people around them. He would rush to him and allow his arms to encase him - 

_ \- but, _

_ But there was a problem. _

The girl next to Heechul - Baekhyun recognized her as one of Heechul’s co-workers - grasped Heechul’s arm and leaned her head against him - 

“I don’t feel good, Chul. Your child is difficult to carry, besides Rin has to go to her friend’s birthday party, and you know she won’t go without her daddy,”  _ Rin,  _ Baekhyun remembered,  _ was her daughter. Heechul used to talk about her very fondly - so fondly that Baekhyun had deemed it okay when he found he was pregnant.  _

“Ah - ah, sure. Let’s go,” Heechul eyed him and bit his lip, “I’ll see you around, Baekhyun-ah.”

And then, he was gone. 

He was gone, like a gust of wind. 

Gone, like a tornado that destroyed Baekhyun’s life and went away.

Gone, like the flood that had destructed Baekhyun and then receded away. 

Gone, like the last thread -  _ the last thread that held him to the lie that he was okay -  _ Gone. 

Heechul was gone. With a girl. With a child in that girl. With another daughter waiting back home. With a job. Without regrets. 

And he had left Baekhyun behind -  _ broken, lost, sad and,  _

_ And,  _

_ With a life inside him. _

Gone. 

_ Gone.  _

Baekhyun hadn’t realized but he was already sitting shotgun in the car. Chanyeol was in the driver's seat. They were in the basement, which was fairly empty. Empty. Empty. Everything was a blur, possibly because he was crying but he didn’t know. He couldn’t know. He was numb. Burn him in a fire, slice him open and throw him in the cold sea -  _ he would probably still be numb.  _ His body was scum, and his mind was barely floating through it. 

“Baekhyun?” The deep voice, the tentative tilt at the end,  _ deep, deep concern _ , “Baekhyun?”

He didn’t respond. He  _ couldn’t  _ respond. There were things. And things piled up one upon the other. There were feelings. And feelings were more vicious than things, as they piled up, and up and up, and Baekhyun didn’t realize, didn’t notice, didn’t understand

\- but now he does. 

There are ups and there are lows. There are hopes and there is disaster. There is success and there is failure, but one thing he hadn’t noticed was that -  _ there was life.  _ And life was suffering, life was misery. And now, he’d hit rock bottom, or was the closest to it that he had ever been. 

What was left for him?

Nothing. 

There was a warm hand on his jaw and his face was turned. His eyes didn’t widen. He wasn’t surprised. He was just done. 

“Baekhyun…” Chanyeol said, staring at him so tenderly, as if he were made of glass. If it wasn’t obvious in the past, it was obvious now.  _ Love.  _ But this love could only give birth to pain. Heck, love could only give birth to pain. 

A flash of light as a car rushed past them - it was a short moment - but that was enough to illuminate Baekhyun’s face on the glass. He looked wrecked, with salty tears rolling down his cheeks, downing his face in red. His eyes looked like clay beads, and he’d bitten his lips too hard - they looked ugly. But the ugliness that he felt was nothing compared to his physical appearance. 

“Was that - was that your ex?” Chanyeol’s hold at his jaw was firm, and Baekhyun found himself nodding lightly.  _ Yes, that was the man who dumped me because he didn’t want kids.  _ The irony… 

Chanyeol licked his lips, and his eyes darted around nervously, “You need to...let him go. He’s unworthy of your love.”

_ Slap.  _

There was a loud and satisfying sound. Baekhyun faded into his mind, vision blurred, out of this world. And when he came back to earth, he saw Chanyeol’s wide eyes - surprised, shocked...hurt and the red - unnatural red mark on his cheeks. And he assessed the tingling sensation going up his wrists - and only then did he realize what he had done. 

Tears rolled down from his eyes and he was choking on his sobs. 

But he couldn’t stop hurting the one that had only helped him until now, “Stop!  _ He’s not unworthy. I am. It’s my fucking fault.” _

He had lost it. He was tired. His heart was bleeding. 

Chanyeol was breathing loudly, “What...what the fuck are you even talking about?!”

Yes. Scream - because,  _ because the sound of someone else in pain felt good too.  _ It wasn’t only him that was hurting. At this point, he should come to terms that he was a sadist and a masochist, or rather he was just - just  _ deprived of love.  _

“I don’t -” He choked, “I don’t know what I’m talking about.” He was being honest. There were knots and knots of complex feelings in his chest and he didn’t know what he was feeling, why he was feeling and how he could stop it. All he knew was hurt, hurt, hurt. 

Chanyeol caressed his hands, put them into his bigger ones and held them dearly, “Baekhyun, talk to me.”

He shook his head, and kept crying, sobbing, choking. Over time, he started hiccupping too. He was pulled closer, and soon there were hands running up and down his back as Chanyeol whispered into his hair - calm things, soft things, beautiful things. Baekhyun didn’t listen. All he knew was that Chanyeol’s voice was calming, soft, smooth. He could close his eyes and listen to him forever. 

So, he hid in Chanyeol’s chest and listened to him talk. Felt his chest rumble. Felt him breathe. Felt his heart beat. And in the dark, dark crevices of the bottom, he held onto him. He rumpled Chanyeol’s shirt in his hands. He was never going to let go, because if he did, he would fall. 

Tonight would pass. Yes, it would be painful. Yes, it would be hard. But it would pass listening to Chanyeol talk - talk about the most useless things to ever talk about. Baekhyun could only close his eyes and hope for the best for tomorrow. Because tomorrow  _ would  _ come. Nobody would stop the sun from rising - nobody could stop Baekhyun’s pain from resurfacing. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Baekhyun was awoken by the sun rays that struck his eyes. He opened his eyes but made no move to get up. Chanyeol was sleeping next to him. Infact, Baekhyun had spent the previous night hiding in the artist’s chest. He sighed as he turned over to look at his room. The sun's rays hit the glass windows at an angle and cast beautiful patterns all over the wall. He wondered if Chanyeol took inspiration from these things. Little things like these that people paid attention to only when their life wasn’t worth paying attention to. 

If he was a Greek, he wondered if his tragedy would sell in the market. Or maybe, it would too, like his life, stay on the shelf, dusty and unwanted. People wanted love, happiness, sons, things to boast about, and children - yet here he was, offering everything he could to everyone who cared, yet nobody came forward. Nobody cared. Nobody wanted him. Nobody loved him. 

There was a tug next to him, and Baekhyun was pulled close to the warm chest he’d spent last night crying in once again. The archer wanted to cry again - for himself and also for Chanyeol. Why was it that everytime he was falling Chanyeol was there to catch him? In a way, weren’t they alike? They both were doing all they could, yet they were unwanted by the people they loved. 

Baekhyun knew Chanyeol didn’t want him. The artist needed him, but he didn’t want to need him, if that made sense. Baekhyun was as unwanted by Chanyeol as the artist was. And yet, as pain came bubbling up again, he hid himself in the artist’s chest once more. He was being selfish, but it was okay.  _ Just a little bit more…  _

  
  
  
  


After breakfast, Chanyeol lead Baekhyun to his room. The archer prepared himself. They were going to talk - he knew that. 

But even after settling in the room, Chanyeol didn’t say a word. He didn’t ask Baekhyun to talk. Instead, he went and fixed a new canvas on his easel and gestured for Baekhyun to come and stand next to him. The archer did, albeit confusedly, but he did. Chanyeol handed him a brush and a palette - 

“Paint,” He commanded, “Last night, you were unable to talk. I think it’s better you paint.”

Now, Baekhyun knew not a stroke but fed by Chanyeol’s encouragement and a sudden desire to display his pain out for everyone to see, his eyes welled up and he dipped his brush into the paint - as if stabbing a sword into someone’s heart - and slashed the canvass. Spurred on by the sudden misery and anger that contained him whole, he  _ painted.  _ He didn’t know what he was painting and hesitated between colours, but then he thought about yesterday, about everything and he just slashed and stabbed the canvass. And only an hour later, it was standing in front of him. 

His painting. 

Chanyeol scrutinized the canvass carefully, “Is that - that is a face,” 

Baekhyun looked at the messy, dripping black and red. He nodded. It was a face. 

“That red thing is you, in the corner,” A small red childish arrow marked his presence in the painting, “You loved him.” The red arrow pointed towards the face drawn in black, “But now you realize that you felt inferior to him? Is that why the arrow is so small?” 

“Kinda. It’s my importance to him in the bigger picture.”   
  


Chanyeol licked his lips and continued to stare at that painting, like he cared and at this point, Baekhyun knew he  _ did.  _

“And the black on his face is the fact that he’s a liar? Is it?” Baekhyun nodded, “The eyes aren’t looking at the arrow but something else, so he never looked at you the way you looked at him. Or maybe, he loved you once but then…”

“He got bored,” Baekhyun shrugged.

There was a painful silence, “Uh - and that yellow on his face and beyond - what’s that?”

“It’s unattainable. Unreachable. A faraway dream,” Baekhyun replied.

“And what is it?”   
  


Baekhyun didn’t reply, so Chanyeol just continued, “And the arrow is surrounded by grey? So you’re sad but you’re also happy?”

Baekhyun shook his head.

He was hitting the main points in the painting, Chanyeol thought, and the man wasn’t the main thing, even though he was the biggest feature of the painting. Being dumped and cheated on was the cover behind which Baekhyun’s sadness lay. 

“And on the top, there’s…” Chanyeol hesitated. Baekhyun had painted the top in beautiful colours - red, pink, yellow, green and purple - all shining but then, he had run over it all with a white coat. What could it mean? 

The painting didn’t have any skill but the things that it had made it an enigma. There was so much in a small canvass. That’s what Chanyeol loved about art. He stepped closer to the painting and  _ looked  _ at it. The weird white-coverup at the top followed by the silhouette of a face made in black with shining white eyes looking at the yellow boundary on the right. A tiny little red arrow on the left, pointing towards the man. The arrow even had a yellow blob on it - Baekhyun’s child. Chanyeol blinked. Yellow…

_ Something unattainable. Unreachable. A faraway dream.  _

What was the thing that Baekhyun’s ex and Baekhyun’s child had in common? Love - no, not love. Suddenly, a jolt passed through his back as he remembered an incident that had happened in the past. 

_ Baekhyun took off his yellow armband and wrapped it around the blue brush - _

_ “Blue looks quite sad, don’t you think?” _

_ Chanyeol could only nod. He was busy staring at Baekhyun’s wide and beautiful smile - radiant. _

_ “That’s why you should paint with this,” He handed the newly yellow paintbrush to Chanyeol, “Yellow stands for happiness.” _

A sob almost slipped past Chanyeol’s lips.  _ Yellow stood for happiness. Something unattainable. Unreachable. A faraway dream.  _ And it was in that moment that Chanyeol’s eyes glanced at the paintbrush. A blue paintbrush - so faint against the grey background that it was barely visible was wrapped around the arrow and it seemed as if the paintbrush was pulling the arrow up, towards the top. 

But as he looked at it more, he realized. No, the brush wasn’t pulling the arrow to the top. It was keeping the arrow from touching the pit, black bottom. The brush was Chanyeol. Suddenly, everything made sense. And at the same time, everything was tangled up. But Chanyeol didn’t care for the negative parts. For the first time, he didn’t. 

“Baekhyun,” He said, so tenderly and stood up, and not even a second later Baekhyun was in his arms. The archer was crying and sobbing painfully and they fell to the bed, tangled up in each other. 

“Chanyeol - Chanyeol!” The archer kept gasping out, as if the moment he’d stop, he’d cease to exist and fall in the pit black zone. 

Chanyeol ran his hands on the back of the man, comforting him. He was crying too. His salty tears fell on Baekhyun’s cheeks and he hastily tried wiping all of it away, but the archer stopped him. 

“It’s okay. I’m not - not feeling the grey right now. I’m feeling. That’s enough,” Chanyeol noticed how peaceful Baekhyun looked while saying it out, how relieved he was. He kept hugging Chanyeol. And then the artist realized why the grey wasn’t good news -  _ grey meant numbness.  _

“Hold on, Byun Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whispered into his ears, “I’m not going to let you fall. Just  _ hold on!” _

_ Hold on to the grey for a little while, oi little bird _

_ One day, I swear I’d paint your world up in yellows _

  
  
  


“Baekhyun, focus!” Junmyeon shouted at him as he missed another beat. The crowd booed and he clenched his jaw.  _ Byun Baekhyun, fucking focus!  _ After three beats, he was back on track, but stability wasn’t enough - not when Kim Minseok was shooting accurate arrows per beat. Not even one arrow had landed astray. Behind him, he could hear Kyungsoo shouting out his scores to the staff. The dull thumping beat around the arena only increased his headache. He missed another beat. The lights turned up towards him and the commentary went off - something about the fallen king. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have thought about that while shooting because now, he was completely off beat. He didn’t know what to do, so he just stood there, clutching onto his bow and arrow tightly. 

Soon, the practice session dried to an end. 

The coach walked up towards him with a sad smile, “You scored the lowest, Baekhyun, out of twenty archers. This performance is really unexpected,” He looked like he wanted to say more, but decided not to, “With the competition drawing nearer, you’ll have to try harder to make it on the team. And need I remind you that only if you win that with the highest margin, will you be allowed on the Archery Competition and -”

“-if I win, I’ll advance to the Olympics. There’s a long way to go,” he grit his teeth and hung his head, “I know that.”

“That’s better. Don’t forget that. We’ll have another pressure training tomorrow. Till then, I suggest you should try meditating for a while.”

Baekhyun nodded and the Coach walked away, congratulating Kim Minseok on his spectacular, unbeatable performance. He was the pride of their institute after all. Somehow, watching others win sucked more than losing, and it was with those sentiments that Baekhyun turned his head away from the sight, and walked away. Just why did he even bother with archery anymore? Just why did he bother with anything anymore? As he turned his head to look back at Kim Minseok and the others celebrating their improved performance, the barrier in between came to life. They were happy, shining, radiant, surrounded by hues of colours and beauty. 

And Baekhyun? He was on the dark side, painted in shades of blues, greys and blacks, withering, rotting. And frankly, he didn’t really care anymore. Even if he won, he’d lose. He’d already lost to life. He was a loser.

  
  
  
  


He had said he hadn’t cared. 

But then, why were these tears streaming down his cheeks?

Why could he smell brine on his face?

Why - why was he hurting so much?

If he didn’t care, he shouldn’t hurt.

  
  
  
  


Chanyeol looked at his painting. He’d been painting continuously for seven hours now. He had even forgotten to visit Baekhyun at his practice - that’s how occupied he was with this painting. He’d woken up with an idea, a slight idea. He’d picked up the pencil first and he’d drawn and sketched and painted and painted. A strong gust of wind blew into the room through the white curtains and Chanyeol’s eyes looked at the painting, with hope. 

It was a bird. A really artistic colourful eagle, draped in wings of gold with red eyes and a yellow and red body. The bird flew higher than the highest. It was a painting of freedom. 

But there was a catch. 

It wasn’t his freedom that he had painted, because he had already given up on that, years ago. It was Baekhyun’s freedom that he had drawn to life. Baekhyun, who he believed was meant to fly, to soar, to win, to cross every limit ever - 

  * Baekhyun was _happy and free._



But as he kept staring at the painting, his heart stirred. Fake. This painting was ugly. He looked at the painting Baekhyun had drawn - it seemed childish compared to all the detailed, intricate artworks present there, but yet, it had  _ one  _ thing that Chanyeol had entirely missed - 

  * _Reality._



And real, meant made or broken through pain. This painting was unreal, because it was an ideal. Suddenly, something aligned in Chanyeol. Pictures flew fast in his mind. Baekhyun crying, Baekhyun sobbing, Baekhyun losing, Baekhyun laughing, Baekhyun smiling, Baekhyun hiding his tears, Baekhyun shooting, Baekhyun missing, Baekhyun hurting,  _ Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun!  _

And he realized - that day, he _understood._

Baekhyun wasn’t a god. He wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t ideal. He couldn’t tackle and solve his problems one by one like he shot arrows. He wasn’t entitled to victory. He wasn’t special. 

He was just...human. 

Baekhyun was also  _ human,  _ just like him. He was made through wounds, through tears and blood and sweat. He was made through experiences. Through  _ mistakes.  _ He wasn’t perfect. He made mistakes. 

He was just like Chanyeol. 

There was a picture in his mind - Baekhyun holding onto his bow, with eyes as sharp as an eagle’s, shooting tens one by one. Solving his problems one by one, and then smiling with his chin raised high as he was awarded, yet again. The perfect picture. The King. 

That image shattered. It broke. 

Baekhyun was human. Baekhyun was just like Chanyeol. Baekhyun had made mistakes. Baekhyun was losing hope. 

And it became much more real. Just like Chanyeol, Baekhyun was falling, losing. He couldn't just pick himself up because Chanyeol imagined him to be that strong. He realized the problem. Everybody was so blinded by the grace with which he shot that they forgot that it had taken years to form that stance, years to perfect himself. That his life existed beyond the bow, that he cried, that he was tired, that he could make mistakes, that he could fall from his grace. 

That maybe, one day, he’d never pick up a bow with the same grace. 

That maybe, one day, he’d get lost in his darkness. 

Chanyeol’s body stopped. No...he couldn’t let that happen. The weight of the responsibility he had as someone Baekhyun trusted dawned on him. The proximity of the dark pit to Baekhyun flashed in front of him. The fact that this - this darkness could probably be permanent hit him.  _ Baekhyun couldn’t just shoot his problems away. That was an ideal.  _

Everything hit him at once, but two things struck him the most. 

The first was the question whether everything he’d felt for Baekhyun up til now, all his attraction - had it been towards the ideal Baekhyun or  _ Baekhyun? _

The second was grimer. He had to help Baekhyun get out of the blackness. But...but what if - what if he was already too late?

  
  
  


The door was opened with a low creak. Chanyeol perked up from the couch and his eyes trailed the single figure that walked in, looking defeated.

“Baekhyun?”

“Yeah,”

“Did something happen today?”

“No.”

He was in his room and the door was shut. Chanyeol didn’t know what to do, so he just went and placed the food outside.

“Eat up, okay?”

There was no response on the other side. Chanyeol was a bit let down, but he let it be. Obviously, Baekhyun was tired. Yeah, he was probably just tired and cranky.

The artist let him be and walked away.

And then he stopped.

_ What if he was already too late? _

He turned back and rapped his knuckles across the door.

“Baekhyun?”

No reply.

“Baekhyun!”

He couldn’t even hear anything.

“Baekhyun, open up!”

An unexplainable fear settled in his gut.  _ What if it was already too late?  _ No, no. That surely couldn’t happen. This was Baekhyun he was talking about. He kept knocking and hitting the door until his knuckles turned red and swollen. Why wasn’t Baekhyun opening the door?

Just when the fear was about to reach the brink, the door opened, and light fell into the hallway. Chanyeol stilled. Baekhyun’s head popped up from the door. His hair was wet, and he was in a bathrobe. His eyes were completely red and swollen, but other than that, he was…there.

Chanyeol couldn’t hold himself back. He lunged and brought the smaller closer to him. He…couldn’t suppress himself or pretend that everything was fine when it wasn’t. He held Baekhyun close, just like he had always wanted to, breathing in the fresh soap. Baekhyun smelt…milky. He probably used baby products.

“C-Chanyeol?” Baekhyun wondered out. His voice was a little scratchy.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Chanyeol ran his hands down the archer’s back, “It’s okay.”

And for a few moments, it was fine. They were breathing in the silence, so fucking alive in the dark. But then the sobs started, slowly, drawing out from within Baekhyun and then the crying intensified, shaking his petite little body. He would have fallen to the ground if Chanyeol wasn’t holding him up, but it was okay because Chanyeol was there. And he’d always do that, if Baekhyun desired, if Baekhyun wanted him to.

He made the smaller sit on the bed and let him lean on him. He kept muttering ‘It’s okay’ into the soft ears of the archer. He didn’t let him go. He didn’t want to.

“Chanyeol, I – I’m  _ not  _ good enough,” He sobbed.

“Why, why do you say that?”

“It’s the truth, and I’m only – just – realizing it,” He shook his head, “Not –  _ not  _ undefeatable.”

There was more crying, followed by more hugging.

“It’s okay, Baekhyun. It is.”

“It’s not – I – I can’t-“

“You’re human, gods, Baekhyun. You’re human,” Chanyeol held him tight, “ _ You are human.  _ You aren’t supposed to be strong.”

“But- “

“You’re  _ fucking human.  _ You aren’t some sort of godly figure. You aren’t unbeatable, immortal or any of those and no matter how hard you work, you will never become a god. So, just stop – please, stop worrying about it,” Chanyeol pleaded, although he wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or Baekhyun, talking about himself or Baekhyun.

He clearly was a human, because he was a big fucking mess. Even with Baekhyun in his hands, he could not stop himself from thinking about his own life – he wasn’t deserving of love, if he couldn’t provide it to others that deserved it, and Baekhyun deserved it.

But he didn’t say any of that. He just put the archer to sleep, hoping that tomorrow would be better.

He was wrong. 

The sun hid behind the clouds the next morning. It didn't seem like a morning at all. For Chanyeol, it was just another day he had to go through. He'd forgotten when he'd started looking forward to the next day...

...And that was when things went bad.

He sighed, and kicked the comforters away. As he went to the washroom, his eyes glanced upon the painting of the bird and he couldn't help the knot of complex emotions from surfacing again. That painting...was so wrong. He went and covered it with a cloth. Better now. Stepping out from his room, his steps led him to Baekhyun's room. He hoped Baekhyun was feeling better now.

Sounds from the kitchen distracted him. He found it was Baekhyun.

"You're awake early," He remarked, "Are you feeling any better?"

Baekhyun turned his attention away from the porridge he was eating and looked at Chanyeol instead. His eyes were dark, lost, soulless. He nodded - his face was tight, grey-ish. He got up only seconds later and grabbed his bow and quiver, and with a light, 'I'm going,' he was out.

Chanyeol's heart squeezed as he realized -  _ Baekhyun wasn't feeling at all. _

  
  


The sky remained grey all day, and Chanyeol couldn't help but think -  _ grey was a much more depressing colour than black.  _ The grey sky was like a sad canvas, and for the first time, Chanyeol wanted to hear sounds so that the canvas could be filled with colours - bright, uplifting colours. A bright cherry red, a beautiful smile, the constant hitting of arrows. A beat. A melody.

Yet, all he heard was a pale red, pulsing in and out of his vision, getting fainter, breathing its last breath. The arrows weren't following a beat now - they hit sometimes, and more times, they missed. The bow-draw wasn't as graceful, in fact, it was ugly. A very quick pull, a slow fire, hesitant dark eyes. Chanyeol wasn't looking at Byun Baekhyun, the archer. He was looking at a broken soul, with another heart inside of him. He was looking at something you wanted to pity, but Chanyeol couldn't pity, couldn't walk away, couldn't mark Baekhyun a lost cause. 

Because he could feel the intensity of Baekhyun's arrows shooting the target, the intensity of his flamboyant, toothy smile. Baekhyun was a storm, a quick whirlwind, a taste of freedom, a quick peek at life. He wasn't...lifeless.

But, Chanyeol had forgotten that all storms bring destruction and all lives are temporary. He gritted his teeth. He couldn't look at Baekhyun any longer. It was very triggering, made him angry, made him sad, made him want to curse and hit everybody that was responsible for reducing the ever bright Baekhyun to this. And he bit his lips hard as he realized - he should start with hitting himself first. This was his fault.

_ No, don't think about that. _

He turned his eyes away, to the sidelines, yet the grey sky followed his line of vision. The coach was standing there, with crossed hands and a frown on his face. His face reflected the grey skies. He looked so old. They all looked old. They were watching the death of a huge career, of endless potential, the breaking of a person, and it wasn't pretty to watch.

Baekhyun...was really dying from the inside.

"Baekhyun!" Kyungsoo shouted from the edge. He had a worried gaze, "Take a break."

The archer ignored them.

"Baekhyun, listen to him," Kim Junmyeon dropped his bow and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Take a break."

Chanyeol could see the lines deepen in Baekhyun's face, could see the slight movement of his shoulders. He was always so weak, so  _ repulsed  _ by weakness - any kind of weakness.  _ Why. Why did you become like that? _

The archer took a break anyway. He came near Chanyeol and dropped his equipment without a care, so unlike him. In the past, he'd worship his bow and clean it and kiss it. Now, he didn't really care.  _ Who are you? _

Chanyeol was hurting. Every action of Baekhyun's hurt him. He frankly didn't recognize this man anymore, but he couldn't give up. Baekhyun  _ had  _ to be there, somewhere in between all of this hurt and pain. He  _ had to be. _

The archer sat down. His eyes were empty, staring far away. He looked like a beggar, like somebody who had no hope, and he probably didn't. Nobody would look at him and think he was a person who held Korea's hope in archery. Most of them probably didn't believe that anymore...His eyes darted to Kim Minseok, who didn't even miss one arrow. It was obvious that the cat-eyed archer worked hard. But that was the difference between Baekhyun's archery and everybody else's archery. Minseok's eyes were focused. His eyebrows were pulled together. He licked his lips. He had bulging muscles. His movements were rough and quick. He was trained.

Baekhyun was different. He was elegant. His archery was beauty. Baekhyun was art. His smirk, his leveling gaze, his relaxed, poised body, his graceful movements. Watching Baekhyun shoot was like watching an angel play the harp, it lured you in, it pacified you, it was beautiful, it was heavenly. Baekhyun was the heaven.

But now, he looked lost, stuck in the afterlife, with no recollection of who he was. How - why - just why did it happen?

"Baekhyun," Chanyeol tested, "Hi."

There was no reply. Somehow, Chanyeol felt that he wasn't ignored, but rather not heard. He turned towards Baekhyun. The boy sat with his hands crossed over his knees, looking out to the horizon. His eyes showed nothing except the grey desolate sky. He was a void.

Chanyeol tried hard not to cry. He swallowed his sob back. No, no. Baekhyun wasn't a void. Baekhyun wasn't life, wasn't his archery. Baekhyun was just...Baekhyun. He gulped and slowly slid his hand across the ground towards the archer, testing, seeing how far he was allowed to go. He clenched his jaw when he reached near Baekhyun's thighs. He was careful enough to lift his hand while still carrying out the extended stretch of his hand. He was offering Baekhyun his hand - it was a plead, an offering; he was begging.

Once his hand was in front of Baekhyun's, almost touching, he stopped. Waited. His heartbeat raced, and his throat was dry. The grey of the sky looked endless. He sighed. It was hopeless. Baekhyun didn't like him and Chanyeol had convinced himself he didn't either, but...he missed his little archer, missed watching archery competitions, missed fighting with him, missed singing with him, missed talking to him about his paintings, missed going to Jaksal Chicken with him. He even missed the days when things were dark, because even though Baekhyun was a jerk to him, he was okay. He missed the days when they were preteens, and they smiled and talked and...yeah.

He missed it all.

And as he retreated his hand, he accepted that he wasn't going to get Baekhyun back. Baekhyun was never his to begin with, but now, there was no hope. The sky wasn't going to start shining any sooner. There wasn't going to be any sunrise, no dawn. He wanted to cry, and sob, but instead he plastered a smile on his face and removed his hand.

But he couldn't. With blown wet eyes, he turned to look at Baekhyun. The archer was still eyeing the grey sky, but now, his eyes weren't blank. There were tears in his eyes. His chin quivered. But that wasn't the most surprising thing. Chanyeol's gaze fell down to the ground between them and he almost sobbed out loud when he saw Baekhyun's small, pale, little hand clenching down on his with an iron grip.

Baekhyun had caught his hand halfway on its retreat.

Somehow, it meant the universe to Chanyeol.

The archer sniffed and a little sentence left his mouth, "Don't...leave me."

Chanyeol made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry, "I won't. I promise I won't. I'll never leave you.  _ Never." I think I'm in love with you. _

Baekhyun's hand gripped his even tighter, and his eyes shut peacefully, allowing a single tear to escape. There was a tiny smile on his face and Chanyeol knew what it meant.  _ Okay. _

Very soon, a drop of water fell onto his head, and just moments later, it was raining. A small peaceful drizzle and Chanyeol couldn't help but smile, even though all the colours of his new painting dripped down the canvas, but he didn't care. He was so happy. He looked at Baekhyun and he knew his little archer was somehow fine too.

_ Anyone who thinks that sunshine is pure happiness has never danced in the rain. _


	5. 4

#  4

_ There's happiness, and there's sadness, little bird _

_ And then there's you. Stuck in the vortex. _

"Baekhyun's not doing any better, is he?" Chanyeol asked, while skidding his bag across the long bench.

The coach hummed. There were lines on his face.

"There have been changes," Mr.Song said in a deep voice.

"What kind of changes?" Chanyeol asked politely.

"Well, he's definitely become worse," The Coach was smiling, yet his soul was mourning, "And angrier. Sadness is at least passive, but anger is a hard emotion to deal with. Anger makes people do things they regret. And too much anger and too much regret - it breaks a person, Park Chanyeol."

Chanyeol swallowed. He ignored the blunt remark hidden in those words. The Coach probably knew about the past.

"What can we do to help him?"

The coach sighed, "As of where we stand, we can do nothing. Baekhyun's in a condition where he can't be helped. Only he can help himself, and...I don't think he's willing to," The Coach looked outside the glass window. Baekhyun shot an arrow but it went nowhere.

"He doesn't even look interested, anymore," Kyungsoo said worriedly. He'd been in the office and listening to their conversation the entire time.

"That's not true," Chanyeol said quickly, "You keep looking at the end result. Baekhyun hasn't given up yet. He still comes and practices everyday. That means he's still determined!"

The Coach bit his lip, "That's true but..." He watched Baekhyun for a little longer, "I think he's just scared."

Kyungsoo frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Archery ties him to himself. He's been trained in that way. He's made archery into something that defines him. There's nothing wrong with that, really, except for the fact...that now that he's losing himself, he thinks that as long as he does archery he'll be fine; sane and alive," Chanyeol's heart sank as he realized what the Coach is saying.

"So, basically you're telling me that he's losing himself and he kind of knows that too, but he's too scared to deal with the realization that he's really not fine, so he's doing archery to keep himself from acknowledging the issue? Everyday?"

The Coach nodded, "Exactly. It's his fear and his last bit of hope that he's running at. We aren't machines but we do need fuel to do something. Earlier, Baekhyun did archery because he felt like it helped ascertain his supremacy. I wasn't his Coach then but I think he did it more for the public than himself-"

"You're wrong," Chanyeol stated bluntly, "Baekhyun did archery because he loved it. It helped him find his freedom and self-worth in a house like his. He didn't like falling back on the 'Byun' name to help him. He wanted to be free. Archery was his freedom, and he loved archery. He loved the constant practice. He loved shooting."

There was silence before the Coach said, "You just used past tense. Does he not love archery anymore?"

He hesitated before answering but a look at Baekhyun's careless shooting brought him to the answer anyway -

"I don't know what he's trying to do now. He's lost."

  
  
  


Communicating with Baekhyun was harder these days. The shorter had completely closed himself up, like a snail that had retreated to its shell. His answers were short, monotonous, and even when you talked to him, he wasn't really present. He was just a floating spirit, translucent and not really there. Sometimes, Chanyeol got goosebumps as he thought that, maybe, one day Baekhyun would just fade. His sadness wasn't very noticeable. The house was normal, everything was fine, except for its residents. Baekhyun had locked himself in. He was so small and never there.

But his misery wasn't all that quiet. Some days, it was seen through painful retching in the bathroom or loud sobbing or complains of heartburns and not eating food at the dining table. Chanyeol worked hard, tried to get him everything he wanted, but material things didn't last long. Chanyeol couldn't give him the inner peace and hope he needed.

He could offer him love but Baekhyun didn't want that.

They were stuck in this cycle, as the grey days drew on. Pain became their music, their life, their silence. 

Chanyeol's heart sank more and more as the days went by. He was so useless. 

  
  
  
  
  


One night, after a long week of tests in college, Chanyeol found himself standing at the edge of sanity. It wasn't an unfamiliar place, just an unwanted one. 

He stood there and he cried. 

That night, when he came back home, he had a panic attack, a very severe one. He couldn't even move, and the colours danced like crazy sirens around his mind. What was even happening to him? 

But that day, Baekhyun was there. The archer held him, patted his back, told him it was okay. 

Baekhyun didn't leave his side. He helped Chanyeol to bed, and told him funny jokes to calm him down. Chanyeol felt horrible, so fucking horrible that Baekhyun even said he'd grant him a wish.

" _ One wish. _ It could be anything you want - _ anything _ I can get you of course," There was an unreadable look on his face and Chanyeol knew if he wanted to love Baekhyun, this was his chance. He knew if he'd ask for a kiss, he'd get one, or even if he asked for something more, Baekhyun wouldn't mind. Nobody would know, except them and the moon. 

Baekhyun could be his for the night. 

But no, Chanyeol couldn't do that. He had to put his heart aside. His feelings weren't going to be of any help to Baekhyun. His feelings were useless things that Baekhyun didn't need to waste his time and energy on. 

"I want to s-see you," Chanyeol croaked out, feeling pathetic as his head swam and tears rolled down his cheeks, "A-archery. I want to see your archery... _ again. _ "

Tomorrow was the competition - the one he needed to win in order to qualify for the International Archery Competitions. It was _ tomorrow.  _

Baekhyun's eyes became hazy. He seemed disappointed, but he had made a promise. He had to keep it. 

"You see my archery everyday."

"No, I want to see your archery, Baekhyun," He was sobbing, "I want to see you lift your bow up with that grace and confidence and shoot tens,"  _ Sob _ , "Upon tens,"  _ Sob _ , "And win. I want to see you smile after you win. I want to see -"  _ Sob, _ "Byun Baekhyun's archery, I want to see him win."

There was silence. Baekhyun's eyes were shining. Chanyeol didn't know if it was the moonlight or his tears. 

"P-please. Just that, tomorrow. _ Please _ ," He had no pride left. He just wanted Baekhyun to be okay.

The silence drawled on and it seemed it would never stop but then two little cold hands held his cheeks and a pair of lips pressed a fluttering kiss on his forehead, warming him up, making him feel as if he deserved happiness - 

" _ Okay _ . Your wish will be granted. Now, sleep."

Chanyeol fell asleep to Baekhyun's hands in his hair,

  
  
  
  


Tension permeated the thick air. Heavy silence lay around the crowd, but more than that was the unspoken pressure. For Chanyeol, it was exceptionally high, because he'd been promised a win. But more than that, it was a chance - Baekhyun's last chance to reach the summit. If he fell down now...getting up would be extremely hard.

"Calm down," Kyungsoo said softly.

"I am calm!" He shouted rather loudly, turning a few heads. He immediately shrunk himself. His heart was moving faster than a bullet train, an elephant was lying on his shoulders, and bile was rising up his throat, "Kyungsoo, hold my hand."

The shorter was hesitant, but he held his hand, and it was only then that he noticed just how much his hands were quivering, how clammy they were. The tension increased tenfold. He couldn't even imagine what Baekhyun was feeling -  _ what if he didn't make it? No, that can't happen. _

_ Baekhyun had promised! _

The competition hadn't even started yet and Chanyeol was already losing his mind. His eyes scanned the perimeter for Baekhyun - just to calm himself down but the archer was nowhere to be seen. He gulped loudly.

"Kyungsoo, I'm freaking out," He admitted.

"I know," Kyungsoo sounded rather calm. Chanyeol cast a glance at him and noticed just how composed he was. His eyes were alert and focused on the ground. Somehow, Kyungsoo and Baekhyun were similar. Both of them had intense concentration.

"I think I'm gonna pass out," He was breathing heavily. Why was he so weak and worried? Even Kyungsoo was okay.

"Don't. If you're feeling bad, just remember that Baekhyun is feeling at least ten times worse," Somehow, that only ignited the tension inside him.  _ He just wanted to see Baekhyun and maybe, comfort him.  _ Although, he had no idea what help he'd be to the archer. Kyungsoo continued, "The Coach legit let him participate in this competition only because of the 'last chance' thing. Coach Song is disappointed by his performance. He's been really...casual about it."

"That's not true..." Chanyeol supplied weakly. Baekhyun had shed too many tears, too much sweat, lost too much just to take archery casually. The archer had lost so much that it probably just wasn't worth it to him -  _ no, Chanyeol would  _ not  _ think about that. _

The silence was interrupted by sudden chatter and applause. Chanyeol felt the fear settle in his gut. The time had come. He stood up, like everybody else to welcome the archers as they stepped out on the field, bows held firmly in their hands, backs erect and eyes focused. The artist scanned the crowd for  _ his  _ archer, but he wasn't able to spot him. There was no straight back, intimidating gaze, bow held up at  _ that  _ particular angle that just  _ pulled  _ you in - such was Baekhyun's archery.

"Where's Baekhyun?" Chanyeol asked but he got no immediate response. Frowning, he turned to look at Kyungsoo, and was surprised to see the boy with quivering lips.

"What is it?" He asked in alarm, but Kyungsoo didn't reply. He just pointed a shaky finger to the field. Chanyeol followed the finger to the end of his vision and he almost dropped down onto his seat as despair and hopelessness permeated his skin at once. This...wasn't Baekhyun. Eyes downcast, back hunched, bow angled awkwardly over his shoulder, and shaky legs walked out on the field, wearing Baekhyun's face.

This wasn't... _ Baekhyun _ .

There was no trace of that slight arrogance, the firm determination, the strength in his arms, the unbreakable wall that Byun Baekhyun was - he looked as if he'd cry if you bumped into him.

Chanyeol's wish wasn't going to be fulfilled.

He fell back onto his seat, trying not to cry. Was this really the end?

The commentary didn't help either,  _ "And who do we have here? Is that really the 'wall' of archery, Byun Baekhyun?" _

_ "I understand why he's called the fallen king, if I'm being honest." _

Unfair.

Fucking unfair. They didn't know how hard it was for Baekhyun. Nobody did. But Chanyeol had seen a glimpse. He'd  _ seen  _ the boy in despair, he'd seen his life go down, he'd seen everything break apart.

And yet, there was so much he hadn't seen, and so much that he couldn't see.

Byun Baekhyun wasn't the fallen king. He was one of the strongest people ever. And he was standing there, just to fulfill a promise, even when he didn't want to.

"You can do it!" Chanyeol's voice came out awkward, and high-pitched but it was okay, because Baekhyun looked his way. His eyes were red and wet. Shit. But he gave him a broken smile, when he saw the support banners they were holding and raised his hand to show his promise finger. Chanyeol wasn't next to him, but he knew what the archer was saying, ' _ I'll try my best to fulfill my promise, Chanyeol-ah, even if I fail.' _

Chanyeol wanted to tell him it was enough. And he just really fucking wanted to kiss Baekhyun.

But he couldn't do that.

Fuck feelings anyway.

The competition started out slowly after a lot of commentary and introduction and sponsor announcements, even though the shooting itself probably wouldn't take more than twenty minutes. Such was archery. It was either a hit or a miss. It wasn't like art. There wasn't victory in loss. Chanyeol didn't know what was better.

Baekhyun stood in his position - the last shooter from their team. Three sets. Two arrows in each set - six arrows in all they could shoot per shooter, and a maximum of sixty points that could be scored. Chanyeol's fingers were tingling. Baekhyun didn't look too confident, but for some reason, the artist knew he didn't need cheering up. He just needed...himself. His eyes were beautifully closed.

The other team started first.

A mouse-faced guy pressed the butt of his arrow right up to his face and Chanyeol frowned. Why was there nobody graceful enough? His eyes immediately shifted to the archer, whose eyes were still shut.  _ Please.  _ He found himself praying, even though he wasn't religious.  _ Please, save him. _

The arrow flew by. It landed on a ten. Firm. A strong start. Chanyeol bit his lip. The next shooter came. His arrow landed on the line between eight and nine. After a bit of delay, it was declared a nine. This wasn't good. The next shooter followed with a smooth nine.

It was their turn. Kim Minseok was beginning, followed by Junmyeon, followed by Baekhyun. Kim Minseok eyed the target. The passion in his eyes was alarming. His draw was powerful, and the release was correctly paced. A ten. Chanyeol didn't know whether he should be relieved or not. Junmyeon followed up next. There was sweat lining his face, and his eyes were a little hesitant. Immediately, Chanyeol knew it wasn't going to be a ten.

He was right. It was an eight.

The morale lowered down significantly, because the 'fallen king' wasn't even expected to hit a five. But, as Baekhyun came up to the front, with slow, deliberate steps, Chanyeol knew something was off. His eyes were still closed. Chanyeol could see him swallow. Was he...nervous? The artist couldn't point out what was happening with Baekhyun.

"What is he doing?" He asked Kyungsoo, almost fearing the answer.

Kyungsoo licked his lips, "He's...planning to win."

Then the whistle blew and Baekhyun's eyes flew open and Chanyeol gasped out loud. His eyes weren't red anymore. There was firm determination, there was the look of a predator, there was the desire, the urge to win, to prove himself. His eyes were so fucking clear. Baekhyun breathed deeply, and the whole crowd held its breath.

Something huge was going to happen.

Baekhyun lifted his bow up and there it was - the graceful arc, the dip and draw. Chanyeol wanted to cry. He probably was shedding a few tears. Baekhyun's back straightened up, and he pressed the string to his lips.

His draw was firm. And his release was quick. The arrow flew swiftly.

Chanyeol's heart skipped a beat.  _ The moment of truth. _

It was a ten. Right in the fucking center.

The crowd cheered as if the world had been saved, and they weren't wrong. Baekhyun had done it again. Chanyeol smiled widely. Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck. He really wanted to kiss the archer now. _

  
  
  


The game went by smoothly. The other team stumbled over their arrows, as the confidence from their side rose and touched its peak. Kim Minseok was steady in his tens and nines, and Junmyeon sneaked in a few tens too.

And then there was Baekhyun. He had transformed into something else entirely. The confidence he oozed, the powerful aura that surrounded him, the draw, the release, the back tension, the way his fingers skid past his face after release - people would say Baekhyun was a god, but Chanyeol knew that wasn't the case. Behind every ten were year's worth of practice - continuous practice, sweat, blood and tears.

Baekhyun had been relentless.

Even when his life had transformed into a nightmare.

He was so fucking human. A strong human.

And he deserved every clap, every shout, every title to his name. He was the ruler of the ground, the king of the arrows and more than that, he was avenging defeat.

Isn't that what they say?  _ Legends never die. _

  
  
  


_ They won. _

_ They call the medals the sign of your victory, little bird _

_ But I know that it’s not the gold around your neck _

_ But the pride in your eyes, and the smile on your face _

_ Oh dear, it’s the smile on your face _

It's the smile on his face. The smile that had Chanyeol tearing up.

_ I feel like I’m ebbing away, little bird _

_ You are becoming my existence, my dream, my fear _

_ Once again _

  
  
  
  
  


Post-coital dysphoria. Happiness Hangovers.

The unwavering darkness that remains after the light goes out.

Baekhyun was drowning in it.

His footsteps stumbled, his heart cried as he walked towards a place where he hoped he'd get the happiness he needed. It was a last resort. He was going back home -  _ Jaksal Chicken,  _ for his real home has never been a home to him. The skies were gloomy and cloudy, but they weren't enough to reflect the hopelessness embedded inside of him. Every second went by painfully, long drawn.

He'd merely won because he'd promised to. After the short moment of victory, in which he felt like himself again, had passed, he'd been back to feeling like nothing really mattered. Heechul had moved on, didn't want him, his parents had moved on, they didn't want him, his Coach was giving up on him and he, himself, had given up too.

Thus, this was the last resort.  _ Jaksal Chicken.  _ He stopped when he reached the shop, and his breath hitched as he saw that the shop was closed. The chairs were stacked on top of each other and kept in a corner. The pale sunlight fell on it. He tried not to cry as he looked about his home, and his heart broke when his eyes fell on the 'To Let' sign. Below that, there was a notice -

'We have sadly encountered a tragedy. We are in dire need of any financial aid, thus we are willing to put this shop up for rent. If you can, please donate some money to save a life.' An arrow pointed downwards to a fixed, locked box.

That small notice was enough to break away the last few threads holding him together. He collapsed on the hard ground, uncaring for the child he was carrying. He was crying before he could even ask himself 'why?' The question wasn't very necessary, since he knew the answer. He knew that Eomma had lost her leg due to cancer and he knew that cancer could hit her again, but in the long run of life, between all the happy moments and the sad moments, who ever sits and thinks about all the things that could go wrong? Or. at least, he hadn’t expected this to happen. He'd thought that he had already suffered enough for whatever sin he had committed.

_ Why? _

He sobbed pathetically. His chest clenched and pained. When would all this pain finally leave him? When would the dark clouds leave and let the warm sun shine?

Or will it ever happen? Will it all ever stop or was he holding on to something that wasn't there? Had...had the yellow ever existed? Maybe, he was blind and he'd been doomed to eternal darkness ever since he'd been born. But the more he thought about it, the more he cried, he knew that no, it wasn't like that.

Images flashed in his mind, as they did when you reached the finish line, a rewind of all that had happened. He saw himself - a young boy, laughing in the sunshine, making fun of Chanyeol's yoda ears, running into the arms of his mother who was painting, trying to copy his mother's painting, playing ball with Baekbeom and laughing at Yoora because she was very worried about her skirt, talking to his father about the stars, picking up a bow for the first time and shooting and how at that exact moment he knew -

_ "I'll be doing this for the rest of my life," So young and excited. _

He sobbed harder. What had he become? Just...why?

Eight years ago, he'd come here every day. He had his first proper dance here. He kissed the first girl he ever kissed here. He gave his first confession to a guy here. He started his longest relationship he had ever had here. He found love, and a home, and a family...all here.

And now, it was all gone.

"Eomma...!"

_ If they say _

_ Who cares if one more light goes out? _

_ In a sky of a million stars _

_ It flickers, flickers _

_ Who cares when someone's time runs out? _

_ If a moment is all we are _

_ We're quicker, quicker _

_ Who cares if one more light goes out? _

_ Well I do _

Baekhyun got up from the harsh ground, and hastily wiped away his tears. He cared so much for his Eomma, he loved her. He loves her. He will never cease to love her. He dropped his hand into his pocket. Chanyeol had given him some money, and he had some money that he had extracted from his bank account too. He didn't pay much thought to whatever he was doing when he fished his purse out and swiftly dropped it into the donation box.

And then he looked up at the sky. He wasn't very religious but if there was one thing he wanted, it was this -

"Let Eomma be okay, please."

He didn't know whether the skies had heard him or not, but he hoped that the rumble of the heavens and the peaceful drop of the rains were signals...and didn't signify the end of, well, him.

His last resort had just been taken away from him.

He went to Chanyeol's complex, stumbling on his feet and straying from the way because his eyes were completely blurred by the tears.

  
  
  
  


The rain fell softly through the open window. It was an exquisite sight. The sun set, casting rays and swirls of red, yellow and purple throughout the canvass that was the sky. The rays of the setting sun clashed with the drops of liquid that fell from the skies, casting beautiful prisms of colour and forming a rainbow. From the distance, church bells were ringing - that was the only sound.

Chanyeol was at peace. Baekhyun had won the competition, and he'd shown Chanyeol a glimpse of what he used to be - and that  _ little  _ hope was enough to tug him on. The little archer would recover. Other than that, the artist had also finished a painting that he was really proud of. Most of the time, he drew abstract paintings, however this one was more of a portrait with a few abstract elements. In the painting, he had drawn Baekhyun's smile when he had won.

For some reason, the moment was plastered in Chanyeol's mind as clear as day.

In Chanyeol's mind, Baekhyun was smiling, holding up the trophy, his eyes were sparkling and everything behind him had faded to yellow, giving him a heavenly glow. He was covered with sweat, but he looked happy and confident. In Chanyeol's mind, there was a halo surrounding him, and little birds flew around him.

That's what he had drawn. Baekhyun looked like an angel in his painting that had come to save the world with his bow and arrow. The painting looked wonderful to him. He was really proud of it. He couldn't wait for Baekhyun to come back home from wherever he had gone, so that Chanyeol could show him this.

So, naturally, when the door opened, Chanyeol perked up from his spot like an excited puppy and made his way out. Finally, his lonely days were filled. He had long realised he really cared for Baekhyun.

"Baekhyunnie!" He said, "You need to come with me. I've gotta show you something."

Chanyeol thought that Baekhyun was back to his happy self after today, that the storm had passed. He didn't know that things that worsened.

The archer didn't even bother to reply, which the artist thought was because of his pregnancy hormones, so he grabbed Baekhyun's thin wrists and pulled him to the room. The archer immediately wrung his arm out of his hold -

"What the fuck are you doing?" Baekhyun's voice was dangerous.

"Come on, I really need to show you something."

"I'm not in the mood," He said, but before he could exit, Chanyeol said -

"Please! You won't be disappointed, promise."

Baekhyun could feel his resolve weakening. If Chanyeol didn't stop, he'd start crying or maybe he'd start howling at the artist. Mistaking his hesitation for acceptance, the artist pulled himself to the room.

"First, look how pretty the sky is," Baekhyun didn't -

"Just hurry up and be done with whatever it is," This was the most he'd spoken to Chanyeol in a while, and he didn't really want to bother with the artist. Chanyeol didn't pick up on the signs...at all.

He walked them towards the corner and unveiled a canvass. Baekhyun's breath hitched. It was him, but...it wasn't him. His eyes didn't shine in shades of golden, silver, blue and green, encased by brown like that painting did, and his smile wasn't that pretty...because he didn't smile. His cheeks weren't that sharp - maybe they were two or three years ago but now, he was downright ugly. His eyelashes and eyebrows weren't that prominent. He wasn't that beautiful. There was no halo around his head, no birds singing around him, no pinkish and yellow glow around him, no light brightening up the angles of his face.

"B-Baekhyun?" Chanyeol was stuttering as he looked at him, concern filled in his eyes, "Are you - why are you crying?"

_ Was he crying? _

It seemed as if all the light in the world had tunneled towards Chanyeol.  _ What an idiot.  _ Time stopped as Chanyeol walked towards him but then Baekhyun blinked and as a tear slipped down, the artist was there holding his chin -

"Baekhyun," A command, "Look at me."

He obeyed.

"What happened?" So much fucking concern and care. Why the heck was Chanyeol shining through his vision? Why - just why could Baekhyun hear his heart beating loudly - a confirmation that he was alive?

One second Baekhyun wanted to cry, the next he wanted to hug and kiss Chanyeol and seek for comfort, but then in the next, he was filled with rage to the brim. His body shook with anger - so much anger, and hatred, and he despised everything. Anger coiled in the pit of his stomach.

"Baek?"

"What." He gritted out, trying to fight it, but he knew he had lost too, because anger was a much stronger emotion.

Chanyeol's eyes widened, and he looked shocked and hurt and it angered Baekhyun to see him hurt but it also made him feel  _ so much better _ . Why didn't people hurt all the time when he did?

"You -  _ you are the biggest idiot I've ever met, _ " His words weren't sparing any hatred. He was projecting everything onto Chanyeol, "Fucking, are you stupid?"

Chanyeol's jaw hardened, "What are you talking about?"

"You think I can't see it?!" He was shouting, any sense gone. His eyes were burning red in anger.

"W-what are you even..." Chanyeol said helplessly.

And Baekhyun screamed it, "You're dumb and stupid, an idiot! Fucktard! You think I'm blind, or maybe I'm stupid right? It's obvious! You fucking idiot, I can see it clearly!"

Chanyeol was so hurt - his aura was hurt, his eyes were wet but he was still clueless and curious so he asked, "And what is 'it' exactly?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?! You're so useless!" Baekhyun landed a punch on his chest and Chanyeol winced but he didn't say anything, didn't do anything except pull the shorter closer -

"Please tell me Baekhyun. I don't understand what you're saying," Buried into Chanyeol's chest, the shorter couldn't shout, curse or hit the artist. He merely stood there, sobbing angrily, and grunting his anger out. Chanyeol's big warm hands splayed themselves on his back and he kept requesting the shorter to tell him what's bothering him.

And then Baekhyun had enough.

"You know what's sad?" He laughed maniacally, and continued before Chanyeol could answer, "It's the fact that you're -"

"What is it?"

"You're fucking in love with me!" Baekhyun pushed Chanyeol back, "You think I can't see it but it's right there for me to see!" He pointed at the wretched painting.

Chanyeol's eyes widened. His body was frozen. For some reason, that just made him angrier -

"How can you even do that? I don't love you, Chanyeol! I can never love someone like you!"  _ I can never love again,  _ "I hate you! I fucking hate you!"  _ I hate myself,  _ "I don't even care about what happens to you!"  _ I can't even care about myself.  _ "You're useless,"  _ I'm useless,  _ "You keep thinking you have problems, but let me tell you something, you don't. The only problem there is, is yourself. You're the cause of your downfall and nobody else!"  _ I'm the cause of my downfall and nobody else. _

"So, stop whatever this is that you're doing," He breathed, feeling air finally enter his lungs. However, the next second his airways were all clogged up again as he looked at Chanyeol. The artist was staring at him in shock, his jaw hanging. His eyes were teary and red. He was sobbing lightly.

And Baekhyun? He just grabbed the paintbrush kept on the desk, dipped it in the black paint kept open in the corner and shouted angrily as he slashed Chanyeol's painting with the brush, gaining some satisfaction. He wanted to puke. He wasn't beautiful after all. Black suited him better - dark, hideous, ugly.

And then, he dropped the brush to the floor and walked out of the room, without sparing Chanyeol a glance. Only when he was halfway to his own room, did he realize -  _ finally, nobody officially gives a fuck about me. _

  
  


There was dead silence around the house for the next three days. Or maybe, it wasn't silence after all - maybe Baekhyun cursed Chanyeol out in his head. Maybe, he thought of all the things that Chanyeol wasn't. Maybe, he thought of new scenarios of hurting the artist in the silence.

And what did Chanyeol do? Nothing. He just cried as his heart broke a little more, piece by piece. Why was he so stupid? Why did it take him so long to realize that...that he was in love with Baekhyun? He had known - he had known about it but the realization of the weight of his love had only dawned on him after Baekhyun had looked at him with those haunting eyes and said those deadly words. They were a weight that he was carrying and Chanyeol wondered how far he could go before he crashed under the weight.

He spent the entire day drawing deadly haunted things - pretty things that weren't pretty at all. Pretty roses, covered in blood. Snow, covered in ash. He drew patterns mostly - it appeared that his inspired artistic phase had passed away. He wasn't interested in anything that he drew and every time he looked at the dreaded painting - the one that he had worked so hard for, with every detail drawn to perfection, covered in rough angry black strokes - he felt his chest clench again. It hurt so fucking much. Chanyeol would never forgive Baekhyun.

And when the artist wasn't mopping around about himself, he thought about the dark beauty itself. He wondered just what had pushed Baekhyun to... _ do that.  _ And if the archer hated Chanyeol as much as he claimed, why hadn’t he done anything like that earlier?  _ He did,  _ a part of him said,  _ you just never noticed because you were too busy helping him up.  _ Bitter. He was bitter. He should have never taken Baekhyun in. It angered him when he paused his day just to think if the archer was being good at practice that day. It angered him that to him, Baekhyun had taken over his existence, but for Baekhyun, he wasn't even a speck of dust.

It angered him that that fucking ex had taken away Baekhyun's heart in such a way, and those other people had broken that heart and carved it to their own desires so much that now, Baekhyun didn't ever want to open up to somebody else.

Or maybe, he just didn't want to open up to him.

Because, just like the archer had said, Chanyeol was useless.

  
  
  


That afternoon when Chanyeol was at home, he received an invitation from the Society of  Youth Development for an event. Most of the 'rich' families would be present as they took keen participation in events like this. Chanyeol was invited because of his paintings - the edgy black paintings had found a place in the heart of other youths, and some of his recent still life paintings were considered to be 'really beautiful.' Other 'popular' youths were invited to, from different fields like art, sports, education and politics.

Chanyeol didn't really want to go, but he didn't want to miss out on any opportunity to promote his artworks, and besides, his parents and sister would be there anyway. He hoped he wouldn't have to deal with the Byun family. The Parks were done with the Byuns. After Yoora's breakup with Baekbeom, the only link connecting the Byuns and the Parks were Baekhyun and Chanyeol - and the archer had recently revealed how he felt about that. It was such a bitter sting. The artist grimaced as he ironed his clothes -  _ The Byuns were all snakes. _

Chanyeol wasn't dressed in a suit. He figured that since he's going to showcase his art, he should wear his 'artist' clothes. Thus, he had paired up a self-painted and dyed dark T-shirt with a denim jacket and his favourite pair of slightly ripped jeans and sneakers, along with a hat. He'd even wore his specs. He was anxious about the clothes but after getting a thumbs up from Yoora about the outfit, he allowed himself to grab his things and leave.

Leave, before Baekhyun could come in. 

  
  
  
  


The place where they were holding this 'event' was one of the grandest places Chanyeol had ever been to. The interior looked like a hotel lobby, with the white ceilings, silver and golden walls, aquariums, indoor plants and white sofas. Outside this mansion was an archery place - it wasn't really uncommon considering Korea was renowned for its immaculate archery. There was also an interior bowling alley that Chanyeol made note to use, if there weren't a lot of people around.

He tried to socialize and mingle with all the artists present around. It was easier to talk to people who were his age and were like him. He didn't have to keep a fake persona of any sort around them. He met a girl who was really kind and a nice company to have around. They exchanged numbers and talked for a while. He couldn't help but think how of 'acceptable' she was to have as a partner, so different from Baekhyun.

_ Shit.  _ He shouldn't have thought of that name. All it brought to him was a crumple of complex feelings that he should just discard. Baekhyun's cold heart had no place for him. He should just forget about him and move on...and he would have already had Baekhyun not been imprinted on him so deeply.

The tiny archer was his first friend, his first crush, his first love, the first person he had proposed to.

_ If it had to turn out this way, then why did you kiss me? Why did you smile prettily and took the rose I gave you? _

_ Why? _

'Chanyeol?' The artist finally snapped out of his thoughts when his phone blinked with a message - 'Your sister is looking for you.'

Before he could reply, another message popped up - 'We are all outside.'

He licked his lips as he typed a quick response. He grabbed his jacket and moved out of the art lobby room, heading for the grounds outside. The sun had almost set, casting a purple glow around the sky. There were many stadium lights though, lighting the ground up. All the families were outside, sitting on the white-cloth laden tables and chairs, sipping tea and munching on snacks. For a moment, Chanyeol felt lost among so many well-dressed, expensive-looking people, behaving as if they were born with proper etiquette embedded in their very soul. But then he spotted Yoora loudly calling out his name, not giving a single fuck about what the others would say, and he couldn't help but smile at his over-zealous sister. He immediately made his way over to his own blood.

"Chanyeollie," His mother cooed. She would never see him as anything but a small little kid. "You look really handsome tonight,"

He just awkwardly smiled as he sat down on a chair, "You look beautiful too, mum."

"Despite her age," His father added, "I think it's the makeup."

The kids cackled as their parents got involved in a light-hearted banter - a proof of their long-lasting, evergreen love. It was a happy sight yet it seemed like a pinch -  _ Yoora and Chanyeol weren't all that lucky in the 'love' department after all.  _ His eyes immediately fell across the table towards  _ that  _ family. The parents sat with their pale, strict, powdered faces that showed no emotions at all, while Baekbeom sat with his fiance. He looked really awkward.

_ Maybe Yoora and Chanyeol didn't lack in the love department, but rather they were way too busy messing around with the Byuns. _

"Did you meet anybody new?" Chanyeol whispered into Yoora's ear.

The girl shook her head, "No, I've been really busy. What about you?"

"Well...not really. But, you see that girl there - yeah, that one - I got her number and we're kind of similar. Besides, she doesn't think I'm ugly." He licked his lips.

"You aren't ugly Chan. It's time you get that out of your head. Ugly doesn't run in the Park genes," She said proudly.

"But then you always told me you picked me up from a garbage can and that I was the adopted slave," He sipped the tea and laughed as Yoora stumbled over her words.

"Yeah, about that..." Her speech fell half way as her eyes zeroed in on something. Chanyeol frowned and followed her line of vision and he froze up as he saw one of the last people he had expected to see here -

Byun Baekhyun was wearing tight black pants, and a dress shirt with a locket that fell on his collar bones. His hair was styled to perfection and his bow and quiver gleamed in the dark, shining. However, that wasn't what stilled the audience - it was his actions. Baekhyun went and bowed to the Byun table and said -

"Good evening, Mr and Mrs. Byun."

  
  
  
  


Baekhyun had to be insane to actually come to this event and heed the invitation.

And he had to be a pure masochist to show up right in front of his family, and greet them. And yet, they didn't reply. He kept bowing. They didn't say anything. Finally, he deemed it a lost cause and stood up. But even then, he wouldn’t walk away. He leaned in close and said -

“We were family, mum,” But his mother only turned her face away. He tried not to have a breakdown on the spot and walked away. 

Baekhyun shouldn’t have come. He only did because the Chief really wanted to showcase his skills - which Chief, you might ask, right? It was the Chief of the Society of Male Carriers who had asked his Coach to allow Baekhyun to represent them in the event - the same charity that his father had paid tons of money to. Maybe today they didn’t look at him because a badge on his chest signified what  _ he  _ signified. There were whispers around - 

  * “I understand why they hid him. He’s a male carrier.” 



He tried to take it positively. It didn’t matter. He should be proud he was strong enough to step out and own up to what he was, and a small part of him hoped that his parents shared those sentiments. After all, they  _ had  _ paid the Charity. It couldn’t all be for show, right? They  _ had  _ to care. 

The Chief was standing next to him in no time, and they were taking rounds, introducing Baekhyun to everybody - though that was a little unnecessary. His life had flipped up and down and yet these crusty old rich hags had remained the same. 

“In his latest competition, Baekhyun scored all tens! A perfect score! He’s endorsed by over five popular brands. I can name them for you-” The Chief went on and on, blabbering about Baekhyun’s success. If somebody spoke about it like that, it appeared that you were highly successful even though the ‘success’ was shaded by the losses - both on the field, and the ones that he had had to face privately; alone.

He didn’t mention any of that for the sake of publicity though. 

Or maybe, because nobody would really understand. His eyes slowly found Chanyeol and he was surprised when he saw the artist looking at him too with an indescribable emotion. Baekhyun felt so small in front of him. He felt so horrible. These days his mind was a mine-yard. He had tried not to spend any time thinking...but it was hard. Every thought was like an anchor, pulling him down, deeper into the darkness. Images would flash through his mind, each more painful than the last. He would see his old self, he would see the old Chanyeol, his parents, Heechul, Jaksal Chicken, archery, Chanyeol, his coach, the lack of friends, the baby...everything going downhill. 

In the beginning, the baby was a ray in the dark, but now, Baekhyun couldn’t even care all that much, because he was always so...sad, so defeated. His baby didn’t deserve someone like him. He shouldn’t bring an angel into this world of darkness and demons. 

It was getting harder to breathe. 

What if it got so hard that one day he stopped - 

“Baekhyun!” The Chief said, over-enthusiastically, “Your rival, Kim Minseok is also here. As promised, we would love to see an archery stand off between you too. You should go and get your equipment ready.”

Baekhyun was grateful for the job because his thoughts were all going haywire. A painful fire had started in his heart. He would end up burning. He tried to stop it, tried to run away. It didn’t work. For now, he would try his best not to mind it. He walked to the sidelines, where the families were sitting. Ironically, his family was the closest to the side line, thus he would have to prepare right in front of them. 

Yeah, he wasn’t very ecstatic about it. 

As the other families saw him preparing, they came closer to see the competition. There was unrest in the crowd. A lady from the Lee family went to his mother - Mrs. Byun and said - 

“Isn’t he your son?” Her voice was a whisper, but Baekhyun had sharp senses. He heard, and he held his breath, fearing his mother’s reply.

“No, Mrs. Lee, you know we only  _ support  _ people...like them. We don’t raise them,” Her mouth was cold, like a blade, piercing Baekhyun’s skin. His blood was cold. 

What was the point of anything?

Mrs. Lee didn’t say anything more, just offered an awkward laugh and walked away. Baekbeom leaned closer to his mother - 

“Mom, we should go and wish him luck for this thing-”

“I’d rather he loses,” His father said, “I’ve already denounced him as my son. It would be better if he lost-”

“Baekhyun won’t lose, dad,”  _ Was that the only thing they were worried about - if he lost, or if he won,  _ “He’s never lost.”

His dad snorted lightly, “Oh please, I have seen him lose way too many times. I don’t even know why he’s still the top option for the Olympics when he’s so unstable.”

_ Unstable.  _

His eyes stung. 

There was no point.

“He’s unstable, but he has potential,” Baekbeom argued, “Are you sure you want to lose him? If you had treated him right, then you’d have another title to your name - the son of the Olympian-”

“Don’t be a kid, Baekbeom. Even if he reaches that pinnacle - which I don’t think he will - I’ll have to carry the burden of his homosexuality, his child-bearing, his attitude and so much more. It’s a bad bargain.”

_ So he was just a bargain. Useless.  _

“He’s your son!” Baekbeom said, but his parents didn’t react. Mrs. Byun sipped her tea -

“I wish he wasn’t.”

_ Were they doing this on purpose? Or were they just very oblivious to the fact that he could hear every word. No, they were just oblivious. They always were. _

“But wishing can’t do anything, mom. He  _ is  _ your son, your responsibility -”

“Look,” His mother snapped, “I agree that, once upon a time, I looked at him and saw endless potential - a very bright child. I had hopes he’d bring me glory but that was the past. In the present, he’s worthless. He doesn’t promise me anything - he can’t because he has no capabilities. Any love that I harboured for him is gone. He’s hurt me way too many times - with his actions and the lack thereof, Thus, I refuse to take him in, and that’s final.”

Baekbeom was about to protest when his father said, “Look, son. I know it’s hard, but you have to let go of weeds. People go wrong, and you can’t take responsibility for them, okay? I know you saw him as your brother - but you have to let him go. Your brother brought you nothing but pain and responsibilities, took away any freedom you had because he was very selfish pursuing his own happiness, leaving you to work in the company day and night. We are proud of you - for never abandoning us, the company, family and love. So, let’s drink and forget what should be forgotten.”

_ Weed.  _ He brought them pain. It was because of him that Baekbeom had to work so hard; his father had to shelter the family; his mother had to deal with the rumours; Yoora and Baekbeom couldn’t be together; Chanyeol was hurt, and now, Heechul had left him with a kid, and he was a broken archer, not even good at shooting. 

_ Selfish.  _ He had ruined everybody and he was still thinking about his own pain. But he wanted to be selfish once again. 

The fire was spreading. He would burn. He had to escape. 

So scared, he was so scared. 

“Archers! On the mark! Three arrows!” A referee shouted. Baekhyun was pushed back to reality. He didn’t want to play - he didn’t want to play at all. He looked around - he saw Kim Minseok, carefully picking up his equipment - his eyes were plastered on the target and there was determination in his soul. 

He didn’t want to shoot. His eyes trailed to the people - well-dressed people, the Chief, the Lees, the Kims...and then he saw  _ him.  _ Chanyeol was laughing with a girl in the back, holding a drink in his hands and there was that look in his eyes, that look which promised new beginnings. 

_ Look at me, Chanyeol _ , he pleaded,  _ look at me. I need you. I can’t do this. Save me.  _

The girl tangled her hands with Chanyeol. The fire burned more. His chest tightened. 

“Archers?” The referee said. Kim Minseok was already on mark, smirking at Baekhyun. The latter gulped and took his first steps, feeling the world spin as he walked, as if all the lights were on. Alarm bells rang in his mind -  _ don’t do this, Baekhyun, don’t. Don’t hurt yourself anymore. Run.  _ But there was nowhere to run. The fire was spreading everywhere. 

Baekhyun stood on mark. His parents, like every other family had walked closer to see the sight. He heard Baekbeom saying loudly -

“But mom, if he really wins, and people congratulate him, they will congratulate us as well, right?”

His mom licked her lips, “We’ll accept the praise. After all, he’s shooting because of us, right?”

He was a bargain. A matter of convenience. Victory was convenient, loss wasn’t. He only wanted love though. 

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, the game will commence now between reigning champion Byun Baekhyun and rising star, Kim Minseok,” The crowd clapped half-heartedly. It felt like this archery match was only taking place for the entertainment of these rich people.

Baekhyun...used to be one of them. 

_ Fire was spreading. The smoke was choking him alive. He had to escape.  _

“Start!”

The game began. Kim Minseok was quick. He drew his arrow fast, meanwhile Baekhyun wasn’t steady on his feet. His vision appeared to be blurred. He was choking alive. So lost in between this fiery maze. 

But then, his mind flashed images of Chanyeol -  _ I want to see Byun Baekhyun’s archery, want to see him win.  _ Chanyeol was probably busy hanging out with the girl, busy forgetting Baekhyun who only brought him pain, but the archer wanted to be selfish. He had to try and entice Chanyeol - 

__ and if Chanyeol wanted a perfect victor Baekhyun, like everybody else did, then Baekhyun was desperate enough to be that version of himself, because Chanyeol  _ actually  _ mattered to him - his opinion of  _ Baekhyun  _ mattered to him. 

He raised his bow, in the way that Chanyeol liked it, high and daunting, and drew an arrow smoothly, the way that Chanyeol liked to draw. He held the stance for a little while, relaxing his muscles, perfecting his spread and then releasing. The crowd cheered as it hit a ten; Minseok’s arrow only hit an eight. 

“Chanyeol! They’re doing archery, let’s watch!” A shrill voice said. He turned his head to momentarily look at the couple - the girl was pulling Chanyeol towards the sidelines. Baekhyun made eye contact with the boy. Chanyeol’s face was emotionless. 

He had to shoot the next arrow - maybe this one would impress Chanyeol, maybe...the fire will subside. 

He did an elegant draw again, pushing the string right up to his lips and shooting. A ten again. Minseok scored a nine. He looked back again, but Chanyeol wasn’t even looking at him - he was looking at the girl who was talking animatedly. Was that it? Was even this best version of himself - the one that shot tens - not enough? 

They had a few minutes to go and relax, before the new end. Baekhyun’s steps were slow as he walked to the sidelines. He had to listen to  _ his  _ family talk again -

“His performance is really good,” His sister-in-law said, “Are you sure you’re kicking him out?”

His mother grunted, “If he’s profitable, then I might keep him around - not in, but around.”

_ Ouch.  _

His father added, “We - your mother and I - didn’t really care for Baekhyun that much, as much as we did about you. We didn’t have time to invest and I don’t regret that. Had I known he would have turned out like that, I wouldn’t have invested anything in him at all. But since he's half-good at archery - if we have profit to take, we will. His archery matters to us, he doesn’t.”

His mother nodded, “To be honest, he never really mattered to me. He was the centre of attention only because he was spoilt and irritating when you didn’t pay him attention. Other than that, I only ever cared about him because of his archery. I never really loved him.”

_ I never really loved him.  _

“I kind of already knew, mother. You were being really obvious,” Baekbeom rolled his eyes, “Neither of you cared.”

_ They were really obvious. _

How come Baekhyun never noticed? 

His mother said something else, but this time it was a whisper, so Baekhyun couldn’t hear. He didn’t want to, he didn’t have to...it was fucking clear. He was the idiot. The fool. He was burning up, the fire spreading throughout his soul. Smoke blocked his sinuses. Where should he go? 

He turned towards Chanyeol, a plea, a cry for help. He was losing his will. His heart broke yet again, as he saw the artist still smiling at the girl - he should be happy for Chanyeol. Finally, after so long, he was getting what he deserved and yet… and yet, he was being so selfish. 

His footsteps drawled as he walked over to his position. He was so tired. The weight of everything was on his shoulders. He didn’t want to do this. He had lost, he accepted his defeat. 

_ I never loved him.  _

Nobody did. Not even him himself. 

Why was everything hurting so much? He wanted to cry so bad. 

His feelings, his emotions were too much for him to handle. They were eating him alive. His brain was going haywire, breaking him down, making him forget everything that he was. He was hiding from his own feelings in a corner. Escape...he needed to escape. 

_ What are you even thinking Byun Baekhyun? You’re okay. Get over it. You have a competition to win.  _

But the competition was the farthest thing from him now. It was hard to breathe. So fucking hard. 

He picked the bow up, slowly, as if it was his last time. Every second, every minute, every drop of sweat and every tear came to this. Blood lined his sins, and he was breaking apart under the moonlight. In front of him was a target that determined his worth, determined if he was functional or broken, determined if he was wanted or not, determined everything about him - 

\- he wasn’t a boy, Byun Baekhyun. He wasn’t a son, a lover, a parent, a human - 

No, he was an archer and that was his only identity, the only thing people loved him for. The target was everything - his sanity, his insanity, his dream and his fear. 

He drew the bow, so beautifully, and he held the position, feet planted on the ground, unwavering. But his heart and his mind was so shaken, shattered. His hold was strong, but he wasn’t. Not anymore. It all burned down to this - all the personas he had carried, every feeling he had ever harboured, every hope, every desire, every moment - whether he shot a ten or not. 

What a useless life. 

He released. Minseok’s arrow struck first - a ten. The archer whooped and there were cheers, and Baekhyun? His arrow flew fast but the wind shifted it around and it wavered, it was shot wrong; it flew out of the way, crashed on the ground. 

A horrible shot. 

The silence pained his ears. He strained to listen but all he heard was his parents -  _ “You see what I mean when I say he isn’t worth it.”  _

And then a small whisper of his name, “Baekhyun…”

Small snickers. Minseok moved to grin at him, to smirk but the smile was washed off his face once he looked at the archer’s face - the absolute devastation, “Baekhyun? Are you okay-”

The archer didn’t reply. He couldn’t let himself burn in the fire. He couldn’t ignore it. It would hurt, it was hurting. It had to end up in his demise after all - in both ways. He’d choose the one which hurt less -  _ escape.  _

Archery didn’t mean a thing. 

He dropped his bow - no, it fell out of his hands. It was the last time. 

The game was already over - the three promised arrows had been shot. He walked out of the pavilion, not before gracing Minseok with a smile and a -

“You’ll go really far,”  _ Minseok would.  _ He wouldn’t. He left the ground. Soon, he would leave behind the fire - he wanted to. 

Nobody saw him, and Minseok just shrugged and went to the food stalls. 

That was for the best. 

  
  
  


Baekhyun was wrong, though. 

Somebody saw him. 

Chanyeol did. He watched Baekhyun shoot the last arrow of the game - saw the darkness that fell over his face when it didn’t reach the target. He saw the harsh breathing, his reddened eyes, the finalty with which the bow was  _ dropped  _ to the floor -

  * giving up



“Chanyeol, should we eat something? I feel hungry,” The girl said nice-heartedly. Chanyeol smiled at her -

“Yeah, that would be fine.”

But somehow, his heart and mind felt that things weren’t fine. He couldn’t get the way Baekhyun’s jaw quivered, the look on his face, the  _ defeat _ \- there was something more than an arrow being missed. Something was off. 

But no, Chanyeol had had enough. 

The things that Baekhyun had told him -  _ you’re useless!  _ _ I can never love someone like you! I hate you! I fucking hate you! I don't even care what happens to you! You're the cause of your downfall and nobody else!  _ \- made him realize just how  _ wrong  _ he was about Baekhyun after all. He had thought that the archer had changed - but no, he had become worse and Chanyeol didn’t need people like that in his life. He was happier on his own. He wasn’t going to bend for...people like Baekhyun again. 

_ He hated Baekhyun so much.  _

He followed the girl. Sadly, she had walked closer to where the Byuns were eating, thus he had to listen to their conversation. Bad luck -

“You see, Baekbeom?” Mr. Byun was saying to his son rather loudly, “The difference between a victor and a loser. Minseok, my boy, rose towards the top.” They were treating the archer to food.  _ That family was full of snakes.  _

“But, father…”

“I already told you I never loved him, and I spoke loud enough so that he could hear me too. I think he got the message. You should let it go too now, please,” Chanyeol didn’t want to hear anymore. Humanity...these people weren’t humans.

But maybe, that’s why they fit with Baekhyun. He wasn’t human either. 

How could he hurt Chanyeol again and again? 

Why was Chanyeol still thinking about him? Did he not deserve love? 

His eyes wandered to the girl, a bright smile - very much like... _ him.  _ In the past. He...must have been hurt too - he’d lost the sparkle in his eyes. He had lost a lot too. He had pushed Chanyeol away too, choosing to stay alone - 

_ Little bird, why do you cage yourself in? _

_ Come out, show me what you are _

_ Let me heal your scars, _

_ Let me show you love _

His eyes flicked involuntarily to the abandoned bow and arrow - its owner nowhere to be seen. 

_ Little bird, where did you run away? _

_ There’s nowhere to hide _

_ The fire is everywhere _

_ You have to breathe through the smoke _

There was no other option than to suffer. Baekhyun had to continue archery anyhow. It was the only thing he could do. But then, why did the bow and arrow lay on the ground? 

_ Was it too late?  _

His mind flicked through old memories, a starlit sky, a terrace, candles, a confession, a love song and… a kiss. A love story, that burnt apart into ashes that fell over Chanyeol and engulfed him whole, the scars of the burn still on his body. 

Where was Baekhyun? 

A deep fear spread through his chest... _ If Baekhyun was gone, who would go and look for him anyway?  _ He looked back to the girl - a promising future, and then towards the bow - a painful burning love. It was obvious what he wanted but...he needed something else.

“Hey!” The girl turned towards him.

“What is it?”

“I kinda have to go home. I don’t feel so well. You should continue!”

Her eyes were dazed, “Uh - are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m...tired. I’ll call you later!”

“Oh...okay, see you then.”

“See you!  _ Enjoy,”  _ He laid enough emphasis on the word to make her understand. She just smiled at him and turned away, walking towards the food stalls. Chanyeol turned towards the building -  _ Ugh, Byun Baekhyun, the things I do for you.  _

  
  
  


Chanyeol’s footsteps were the fastest they had ever been. He had scanned all the rooms. He couldn’t find him. He knew Baekhyun was still  _ inside.  _ But where was he? Somehow, Chanyeol knew where the archer was but he was scared. He was really fucking scared of finding out that he wasn’t there...Because that could mean only one thing. 

But he had to face his fear. 

He went up to the terrace. Every step brought back memories, and fear. Everything was so good, until it went wrong. There were so many mistakes, so many sins - how could they ever purify the slate, that is if the slate still existed?  _ Baekhyun... _ He moved up the stairs, so afraid. So hurt, so angry, so emotional...he was feeling so much. Only Baekhyun could make him feel like this. 

_ Where are you, little bird? _

_ Please be okay, Baekhyun. _ He pleaded. He was almost at the end of the road - both physically and mentally. The terrace door was slightly ajar and that was enough to send chills down his back -  _ no, no, no, no! NO!  _ His footsteps quickened and he threw open the door and ran out on the terrace. His heart raced like a crazy monster.

The sight in front of him made him freeze momentarily. Baekhyun was sitting on the ledge, his feet dangling over the edge, the air ruffling his hair. He was looking out at something that Chanyeol could never see. Instantaneous relief and panic alike gripped him harsh in their claws, and he rushed towards him like a maniac -

“Baekhyun!” He grabbed the hands of the archer and pulled him back, “NO, STOP!”

There was a moment of intense confusion and Baekhyun was on the floor beneath him, his hands pinned down. Chanyeol breathed in relief. The archer wasn’t going to go anywhere. He was there. He was present - he was fucking alive. And that was enough. 

“Don’t. Don’t ever - Baekhyun, please,” Chanyeol was sobbing. He hadn’t realized.

The archer looked worse than him. His eyes were dark, hopeless and red. His pale little face and the tear tracks present on them were illuminated by the starking moonlight. So weak, so frail. 

“How can you...just…?” Chanyeol couldn’t form words. He was relieved, but pained, and hurt, so hurt. 

Baekhyun gulped, “I - I wasn’t going to do that…”

“Don’t lie to me, Byun Baekhyun,” Chanyeol said, lowering his face and resting it atop the archer’s. He had to be close to him, had to feel him. The little archer shut his eyes too and tears immediately slipped out -

“I...wasn’t going to, Chanyeol. My baby...I was just realizing that...it was an option,” The archer started sobbing, “It fucking hurts so much. I can’t take it. I - I  _ can’t.” _

“No, no, Baek - Baekhyun, please -” Chanyeol didn’t know what to say, “No, no, no, no! You can’t - I don’t - I can’t - you  _ can’t! _ ” He screamed against the wind. Baekhyun cupped his cheeks - 

“You should hate me, Chanyeol. You must.” 

“I should, Baek, I know...but I can’t lie anymore. I can’t do this to myself any longer,” He said, honesty dripping out, “I won’t let you...do that any longer either. Stop hiding.”

“I… can’t. I’m sorry but-” Baekhyun pushed Chanyeol away swiftly, letting go of the artist yet again. He walked towards the edge, “This would be easier.”

“Will it?” Chanyeol said softly. He couldn’t stop crying, no matter how much he tried. 

“It should be…” 

They stayed like that for a while - Chanyeol on the floor, hurting but letting the wind wash away some pain and Baekhyun on the edge, making quick decisions, shining under the moonlight glow. Their song was only filled with pain now - Chanyeol already missed the red. There wasn’t any other red like Baekhyun’s, and when the red and the silver-blue combines - Chanyeol couldn’t help but think that that was how it ought to be. He wouldn’t lie anymore. He wouldn’t let Baekhyun lie anymore. 

After a long while, the silence was broken by slow sobs that grew to increase in volume and frequency. Baekhyun was crying, but Chanyeol didn’t get up to comfort him - no, the archer had to face this. He had to face the fire - he had to decide if he wanted to jump or try his best to extinguish it. 

Baekhyun stepped closer to the edge and Chanyeol immediately stiffened. He wanted to move but he could only watch as one step became two, two became three and then he was standing right on the edge. One more step and he would fall. Chanyeol could feel his chest constrict - he only understood now, as multitudes of pain hit him, just how much Baekhyun meant to him. 

_ Baekhyun was so much more than a love interest.  _

And it appeared that he had chosen, “Baekhyun…”

Just when he thought the archer would take the last step and disappear forever, he stopped and turned around. His face would have looked serene and calm in the moonlight if it wasn’t marked by pain and confusion, if his eyes weren’t so lost -

“ _ C-Chanyeol!”  _ A hiccup, a plea. The artist stood up, facing him, “I want to...do it.”

It’s like Chanyeol was screaming out but nobody heard.

“But...I-I  _ can’t.  _ But I might -” He shook his head lightly, sobbing, “D-don’t let me.”

“B-Baek-” He was so overwhelmed. 

The red - red fluttering in and around his vision - so overwhelmed. 

“Please…Chanyeol”

Chanyeol was closer to him now -

“ _ Save me,”  _ That was all that the artist needed to hear. He dashed towards Baekhyun and grabbed him by his hands, pulling him flush against his chest.

_ Little bird, I’m dancing on your commands _

_ I will never let you go _

Chanyeol grabbed his chin, and he leaned down to capture Baekhyun’s lips. They had reached the finish line - they couldn’t pretend, lie, avoid and hide anymore. All that was there was now in the open for the moonlight to see. When their lips met, a fire was slowly being extinguished and another one was being ignited -

  * However, this one was formed by them. It wasn’t the result of anything. 



This one was the fire of love, not of pain. 

And Aphrodite and Ares must be smiling down onto them because of how high the flames burnt. Baekhyun was crying in the open-mouthed kiss - a cry of relief. He knew he would be fine. He kept gasping out Chanyeol’s name and bringing him closer - he needed Chanyeol, needed to touch, needed to feel -

  * he needed to be okay. 



And his feelings were mutual.

“I’m sorry!” He sobbed, “I -  _ sorry.” _

His lips were shut with another kiss, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay, I’m okay, we’ll be okay.”

… “Okay,”

  
  
  


They left the party quickly. Chanyeol made sure to pick up Baekhyun’s archery kit, and then he helped the archer to his car and before anybody could see them or question them, they left. Baekhyun didn’t let go of Chanyeol’s hand at all during the ride. 

“I - I am  _ sorry. _ ” He gasped out with difficulty as he was sobbing.

“Why are you sorry, Baekhyun?” Chanyeol’s voice was soft and comforting. He tightened his hold on the archer’s hand to comfort him.

“That day...I said all those -  _ horrible  _ things...to you,” Chanyeol winced as he remembered and Baekhyun cried out sharply, “I didn’t mean it! It was...not for you -”

The artist frowned, “Then?”

“It was for me,” Somehow, that hurt even more, “I - I was angry at you because...because you didn’t…”

Chanyeol wondered if he had done something wrong, so dire that Baekhyun lost himself, when the archer completed the sentence -

“ _ You didn’t hate me,” _

How broken do you have to be, to get angry because people don’t hate you? Why - just why - did Baekhyun think he didn’t deserve love?

Nevermind, don’t answer that. 

“I don’t hate you. I’m tired of telling myself I do, but the truth is...I don’t. Even after all these years, I have only ever -”  _ loved you,  _ “C-cared for you,” 

Baekhyun looked at him when he said ‘cared.’ He understood. 

“It’s my fault…” He smiled bitterly, “I can’t blame you for anything. It’s only ever been my fault. It’s always been my fault -”

“You’re wrong,” Chanyeol said quickly, “It’s my fault too. Everything...it’s not only your fault. It’s your parents’ fault-”

Baekhyun sobbed so loudly at that that Chanyeol just wanted to hug him, and kiss him and make love to him. He kissed the hand he was holding -

“ _ Chan, _ they said I - they treated me like - like a bargain,” He was crying so much, “Mother said - she said that she never - never  _ loved  _ me and Baekbeom said that it was  _ obvious _ .”

Chanyeol clenched his jaw, “They don’t deserve you.” His hand tightened on the wheel. He couldn’t comprehend that the Byuns would fall so low. How - just how can somebody make Baekhyun, a literal angel, feel like he didn’t matter? 

“I - A few days ago, I went to Jaksal Chicken and there was a board,” He sniffed, “Eomma is ill. There was a box. They said to donate money for ‘saving a life.’ I don’t know much but…” He started crying loudly again and Chanyeol stopped the car. Luckily, they had managed to reach the complex. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to Baekhyun’s side, and did the same to his side. 

“We’re almost there,” He said, planting a soft kiss on Baekhyun’s cheek before exiting the car and getting the archer out. He was slouching and sobbing, had no strength in his body. But that was fine because Chanyeol was there for him. He had always been. 

The journey up to the flat was hard. Baekhyun wouldn’t stop crying. He was completely gone -

“I can’t believe I almost - almost did... _ it, _ ” He was shaking in fear. He looked at Chanyeol, with fear, dread and anguish imprinted on his face, “Oh god! I almost killed my child…”

Chanyeol really didn’t know what to say to Baekhyun. He couldn’t imagine what the archer was going through - he really had no idea. Baekhyun kept shaking, and crying - so much pain in a little body. 

Chanyeol wanted to take it all away. 

He opened the door, “Let’s get you in,” 

As soon as they were in and the door was shut, Baekhyun turned to Chanyeol, “You’re here.” 

He moved closer to Baekhyun, held him in his arms and buried his nose into the soft hair, “I’m here. And you’re here.”

They held each other tightly and breathed in each other, taking in what they had lost, what they had run away from for so long. The stars had aligned, the clocks had settled on one beat. Even their heart-beats were synchronized. 

Chanyeol took in a long breath. He couldn’t hold himself back - not with Baekhyun in his arms like this. He  _ needed  _ Baekhyun. He was about to speak when the archer beat him to it -

“Chanyeol?” So soft and tender.  _ Just how it was in the past.  _

“Yes?” The red mingled with the blue and Chanyeol was seeing his favourite colours in front of him. How was it that he hated everything he was, until he was with Baekhyun?

“ _ I love you, _ ” His shaky voice was laced with honesty, and dripped with care, affection, love and so much emotion, “I need you.”

Chanyeol was so happy, he could die. But no, for the first time, he wanted to live. He wanted to live forever with Baekhyun. Baekhyun, who loved him.  _ Baekhyun.  _

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He leaned down and kissed the archer passionately, trying to convey his words - thousands of books that he could write about Baekhyun - into a simple kiss. Their tongues clashed against each other, giving adequate space, letting them  _ taste  _ each other. 

  
When they separated for air, Chanyeol let his head fall against Baekhyun’s, loving the way the archer pouted. How could this innocent soul even think about...doing  _ that _ ? Baekhyun deserved to live a life as a spoiled prince. He deserved love and sweets and kisses. Baekhyun deserved the world, and Chanyeol was in deep enough to try and hang the moon for him. 

“Byun Baekhyun, I swear to god, no matter how much you love me, I’ll always love you more,” His raspy voice said. Each word was heavy, packed with sentiment, love and desire, “Fuck, you have no idea how much I love you.”

Baekhyun opened his eyes - and fuck, he looked so pretty; brown orbs shining in the dark, “Show me.”

It was an invitation and Chanyeol had waited for way too long. He wasn’t going to deny the archer any love. He leaned down and kissed him hard, kissed him deep, as if trying to show him what would come next. Baekhyun didn’t back down. His hands gripped Chanyeol’s shoulders as if his life depended on it, and thinking back to the events that took place barely an hour ago, it probably did. 

However, he had no regrets. 

He kissed Chanyeol back with equal fervour, “Take me.”

The artist lifted him up - “ _ Why are you so light? I’ll make sure to feed you lots.”  _ \- and carried him towards his bedroom. Now, Baekhyun had been to Chanyeol’s room plenty of times, but he had never been lain down on the soft silky sheets with such care and strength. He wanted to cry, wanted to wallow in his sorrow but more than that, he wanted Chanyeol, wanted to be connected to him, wanted him inside him - the light in the dark. 

The artist settled on top of him, making sure not to put any weight on the smaller, “You good?”

Baekhyun hummed, tilting his head to give Chanyeol access to his neck. The artist laughed a little, looking so happy, shining in the moonlight -

“I can’t believe this is happening,” 

Baekhyun chuckled too. He felt giddy. He was no stranger to sex, but it was the first time sex felt so...light-hearted, making him so giddy, so  _ happy.  _

Chanyeol smiled as he kissed his cheeks, poking the flesh, “Cute,” before moving his hands down Baekhyun’s clothed shoulders, sending shivers down his spine. It was... electrifying. The artist gulped before leaning down towards Baekhyun’s neck and taking a taste. He wanted to moan out as the salt and the taste of Baekhyun’s skin hit his tongue. He was slow, making sure to plant kisses as he made his way down. 

“C-Chanyeol-ah!” Baekhyun moaned out as the artist sucked a hickey into his skin, marking him his, and then another and yet another one. Meanwhile, the smaller’s hands moved up and down Chanyeol’s arms and back, feeling him up. He was already thrusting a little. 

“Your skin is sinful, Baekhyunnie,” Another kiss at his collarbone and then there were teeth grazing the bone, sucking the light flesh. Baekhyun couldn’t help but arch his back beautifully. Every breath was laced with desire, and every word morphed into Chanyeol’s name, “Fuck...I love the way you moan.”

This. This is what Baekhyun loved - having a caring partner. And Chanyeol was so caring. 

The thick fingers slowly unbuttoned his shirt while his mouth was attached to his body in a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses. Saliva dripped down from the corners of his lips, but Chanyeol licked it away, leaving Baekhyun moaning loudly at the sexiness of it. Once his shirt was off, Chanyeol’s fingers moved down beautifully, tracing the curve of his chest and splaying over his toned stomach which had bulged a little. 

The first thing that the artist did was to bend down and kiss the bulge, “There’s an angel in there.”

Somehow, that caused Baekhyun’s eyes to water, “She’s a gift, Chanyeol.”

The artist smiled, “Of course, but... it’s a she?”

Baekhyun put his hand over Chanyeol’s which was on his stomach and tangled their fingers, “I...have a feeling.”

“You hear that, angel kid? Your papa has a feeling,” He kissed his stomach again. It was so sweet.

“Pay attention to me,” Baekhyun said, pouting, but he really just wanted to cry. How - just how could he be so selfish to think about giving up and not even allowing the little angel to breathe? Just how-

“Stop,” Chanyeol kissed him, “Stop thinking about that Baekhyun. It’s not your fault. You can’t disregard everything you went through.”

“But-”

Chanyeol tweaked his nipple and the cry turned to a long deep moan instead, which instantly covered him in red, “I didn’t make that sound. Fuck.”

The taller hushed him, “Red looks good on you, and Baek, I swear that was the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

That just made Baekhyun blush harder, “Can you just hurry up? I can’t wait to embarrass you,” Chanyeol laughed, already a little bit embarrassed.

“Alright,” He kissed his clavicles, massaging them a little bit before biting one nipple. Baekhyun squeaked -

“Be careful! Dumbo!” He pouted, “I’m pregnant,”

Chanyeol smiled sheepishly, “Ah...yeah. They’re growing right?” He cupped one breast in his hand and  _ groped,  _ causing Baekhyun to let out a string of beautiful moans. He gave the other breast the same treatment, although he was much more gentle while using his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction, while sucking on one nipple. Baekhyun was so red, ashamed and embarrassed, it was almost comical. He was avoiding Chanyeol’s eyes, thus the artist decided to embarrass him further -

“Hmm...they will start milking soon,” An instantaneous red bloomed on Baekhyun’s face, “And they’ll become heavier, right?”

“P-Park Chanyeol, I swear to god-”

“That you love me?” He winked. He had no idea where he attained all this confidence from but he felt very relaxed around Baekhyun now. 

“I - of course I love you but if you continue doing this, that might change,” The smaller threatened him and Chanyeol stopped sucking his nipples and sat up on his hunches. In a swift movement, he took his shirt off -

“So, would you love me if I did this instead?” He watched as Baekhyun’s nimble, long fingers moved across his torso, feeling the defined lines, before touching his chest and as expected, tweaking his nipple too -

“Ow!” Chanyeol complained as he put his large hands over Baekhyun’s tiny ones, “That hurts.”

The archer stuck his tongue out, “Likewise.” 

Chanyeol grabbed both of his hands and pinned them beside his head. Suddenly all the jokes quietened down and only love, lust and desire remained -

“You look so pretty like this,” Chanyeol’s voice was getting raspier. All his blood raced downwards. He wanted Baekhyun, wanted to feel the boy around him. 

Like this they could see the difference. Baekhyun was all soft curves, soft edges, pale, light skin and dainty limbs, meanwhile Chanyeol was hard, defined lines and big, clumsy limbs. Baekhyun gulped at the intensity with which he was being stared at -

“Chanyeol?” He asked tentatively.

“I want to feel you so bad,”  _ Fuck, his pants were straining _ , “I - ugh, I want you.” It was almost a growl - an assertion. Baekhyun felt the same way -

“Then take me,” So bold, so petite and then these huge hands were all over him. Chanyeol looked at him for consent before taking his pants off and Baekhyun nodded. The artist groaned at the sight of his squishy, white, bare thighs -

“You’re...heavenly, Baekhyun,” But the way the smaller moaned out as the taller kissed and sucked marks into his sensitive skin was anything but heavenly. So sinful. Each moan, each kiss and each pull only strengthened the desire to feel, to touch, to...make love. Baekhyun let Chanyeol do as he pleased, let him touch his chest, his thighs, anything. Chanyeol was quick, planting kisses along his jaw, marking his chest, leaving lovebites on his thick thighs and making his home down there, all while Baekhyun let him know how pleased he felt. It was as if Baekhyun was an instrument and Chanyeol was playing him. 

Then the roles were reversed. Baekhyun’s hands palmed Chanyeol’s crotch and that drove him so crazy he almost fell over the archer, “Baek!” He grunted out. Baekhyun took his pants and boxers off and his huge length stood in front of him -

“You’re like big...everywhere,” Internally he was thinking  _ how is that freaking huge thing even gonna fit me?  _ But he didn’t voice that out, because the sight of the huge length turned him on immensely. He was going to take it all in.

Chanyeol laughed lightly but his laughter was strained, because Baekhyun’s hands wouldn’t stop touching him. The fire that was burning was intense, and they were barely keeping it down. There were so many pent-up emotions, so many feelings - but both of them were afraid of unleashing them all at once and potentially hurting the other - no, they had to be slow and calm.

“Can I take off your underwe-” 

“Yes! For fuck’s sake, Chanyeol. What are you waiting for? I need you in me, like right now!”  _ So much for being slow and calm.  _

“Jeez, okay.”

Baekhyun’s underwear came off, revealing his pink, throbbing, straining length. Chanyeol rubbed his hand over it, thumbing his slit, teasing him so bad that all that remained of Baekhyun was a whiny, moaning mess -

“ _ Ch-Chan-I - please!”  _ He was so delirious. Baekhyun had wanted to give Chanyeol a blowjob, had wanted to explore his entire body but he was going to start crying if Chanyeol took even a second more.

And the taller understood his frustration. He knew just how much he needed this.

“Hold on, baby.”  _ Baby.  _ Chanyeol took the lube out and, after coating his fingers with the substance, he asked Baekhyun to spread his legs, “Shh, I’ll take care of you.”

The taller was slow, and he tried his best to calm the archer down, to love him properly. He slowly fucked him with only a finger before adding another, making him get used to the sensation -

“You’re so tight, Baekkie,” Chanyeol said, barely holding himself back, “I can’t wait to enter you.”

“Then hurry the fuck up!” Baekhyun’s eyes were shining with unshed tears.  _ It kind of hurt, but that was the good part.  _ Chanyeol pampered his face with feather-like kisses and held his hand tightly and yet, gently, making sure not to hurt Baekhyun in any way - and that - that calmed down the vast array of complex and bubbling emotions that Baekhyun felt, because he couldn’t be the only one who wanted the other - Chanyeol had waited longer that he had and even then, the artist was slow, calm and patient. 

_ Caring.  _

“Does it hurt a lot?” Baekhyun looked up to see Chanyeol biting his lips, and looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.  _ He probably thought Baekhyun was crying because it hurt.  _ The archer smiled sweetly at him and shook his head -

“It’s alright,”

The taller smiled at him too, and inserted another finger. He was slow and precise, and every touch made Baekhyun shiver.  _ Fuck, Chanyeol’s fingers were so thick and long.  _ They filled him up better than he could have ever imagined. 

Once, he was deemed ready by Chanyeol, the taller spread his legs and aligned his length to his entrance - 

“Are you sure about this?” 

“Never been more sure,” 

The taller licked his lips. He looked like he would say more but he didn’t, instead he placed his hands on the bed, near Baekhyun’s head, and engaged him in a long deep kiss. This kiss… it was different. It was fiery and passionate, and Baekhyun found himself losing his senses. His heart was light, and for the first time, he wasn’t feeling the now-familiar bundle of dark angsty emotions that ate him up whole. Right now, he was feeling something different. His toes tingled with a magical sort of energy. His heart was at rest - calm yet fiery, so fiery. His mind couldn’t think much except for  _ Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol!  _

It felt as if the small sparks between them had led to the birth of a fire, a warm fire that ignited itself in the dark. A warm, comforting feeling that draped over him, like a fluffy blanket in the midst of the cold months of January. A sweet and tingly haze of yellow that surrounded them. The feeling of being safe, of being stable...of being okay -  _ feelings that were foreign to him.  _

Was this...what love felt like?

Chanyeol entered him. The stretch was imminent and painful, and yet, Baekhyun needed it. He loved it. The taller entered him slowly, his length feeling up every ring of muscle. He had never been stretched so perfectly and when Chanyeol was buried up to the hilt, he couldn’t help but think - this is how it ought to be. 

Chanyeol looked down at him, and his eyes were alive. They met Baekhyun’s and the comforting feeling spread all around them, encasing them in the soft bubble of warmth. In the dark, they shone brighter than the moon, brighter than the sun, for they were tinged by the colours of love - and oh, how powerful and gradient those colours were. 

Chanyeol could see the mixture of those cherry-red bursts and the silver-pale blue, mixing and swirling around them. Every single nerve of his was on fire, his senses were already so overwhelmed because of his condition and yet, he had never felt so relaxed, so at ease. Here, buried into Baekhyun, connected to him, sharing warmth and air with him, he was at home. 

Love was so overwhelming, and yet it was so calm, like the sea, the sky, the fire and the earth. An enigma, a monstrosity, a desire, an urge to care. Love was so much and only lucky souls experienced it, and yet, even at their young age, they knew that this...this was love. 

And they couldn’t help but think, this was how it ought to be. 


	6. 5

  
  
  
  
  


#  5

_ The sun goes down, the stars come out.  _

And people, they forget that the sun is also a star, and that the stars have their own light as well. They are just further away, but the important thing is that - they have light. Such was the hope for them. They were alive in the dark. There was no immediate sunrise, however there were little stars - and stars meant hope, and light, and it should not be forgotten that the night was followed by the day. 

The sun would rise for them too, just not yet. 

But that was okay, because they had each other to keep the cold of the night away. 

“...Chanyeol, do you even know anything about constellations?” Baekhyun asked, turning his head to the side where his lover was glaring into the telescope. The artist had recently developed a love for constellations and the sky after going to this art exhibition where he saw these beautiful paintings of the galaxy and stuff like that. 

“Of course I do. I’m just not able to recognize them…” He said helplessly and Baekhyun laughed at his antics, “Shh, stop laughing. There’s too much red around when you laugh. It’s blocking the stars.”

“You said you loved the red.”

“I do,” Even when they were teasing each other, Chanyeol never joked about their love or passed scandalous comments. With Heechul, it was spicy...but with Chanyeol, it was wholesome. 

The artist had recently told Baekhyun about his condition. One day, when Chanyeol had a panic attack after Baekhyun had played a really horrible mashup of weird instrumental songs, the archer had confronted him about it, and Chanyeol had shyly revealed many things -

_ “I - uhm,” He scratched his head, “I have this thing known as...synesthesia.” _

_ Baekhyun hadn’t heard a lot about that. He just knew it was something nerve-related, “And that is?” _

_ “When, like, two of your senses work together, you know? Oh wait, you don’t. So basically, I have Chromesthesia, so when I hear sounds, I see colours.” _

_ “That’s...cool.” _

_ “It’s overwhelming, because everything has a different colour. So when you play one song with many elements, I see the colours of every instrument differently, and the colours are fixed. There are colours that I don’t like, and some colours and sounds give me headaches,” He said all of this in a single breath. _

_ Baekhyun blinked at him, “That’s...complex. Nevermind.” _

_ Chanyeol laughed, “Yeah, I guess. Many times, when I liked people or wanted to get to know them better, I had to hold myself back, because I didn’t like their colour. I am not really fond of my colour either, or at least I wasn’t…” A lot had changed after they had started dating, including their mental health. The therapy that both of them were getting helped them too. Baekhyun had already known that Chanyeol had a very low self-esteem and he tried boosting the other’s morale up, while still keeping himself happy - and that was kind of his fault. He was too much of a perfectionist, thought too much about everything and everybody, let it all pile up.  _

_ But now, he was getting better.  _

_ “Do you like my colour?” Baekhyun asked curiously, “What’s my colour?” _

_ Chanyeol smiled, and it was one of those - ‘you have no idea how much I love you’ smiles, where his eyes lit up in adoration and care. Baekhyun loved those smiles on him.  _

_ “I love your colour, loved it even when I kinda hated you. Even when I was young, your colour was the brightest thing in my life. I think it still is. One of the most meaningful things ever.” _

_ Baekhyun frowned, “Is it...gold?” _

_ “No, better. It’s red.” _

Baekhyun smiled wistfully as the memory resurfaced in his mind. They had been dating for barely a week, and yet it felt like an eternity had passed. So far, it was all good, and perfect. They avoided the topics that opened old wounds and instead focused on the brighter side of tomorrow, and all the hopes that the future contained.

And yet, there was a gap in his heart, as if things hadn't played out as perfectly as they could have. For some reason, he felt empty and even the newly attained paradise with Chanyeol just appeared to him as a mirage of sorts, a temporary peace that had settled over themselves. This...thing that they were going through reminded him of Chanyeol's angsty paintings - how the first strokes would be these beautiful and calm long dashes of red and yellow.

And then, the next strokes were a war zone.

The world was burning up in flames around them, and they were still falling, however, time had slowed down. Every tick of the clock was filled with stolen kisses, pretty smiles and heart-shaking eye-contacts. He felt like he was floating under the water, feeling so peaceful and yet, he knew very well that soon enough the water would constrict his lungs like an ugly beast and he would be left with no escape.

Baekhyun had many regrets. He had hopes and he had fears, and yet he wasn't able to voice any of them out in front of his therapist, or in front of Chanyeol… and definitely not in front of the mirror either.

"Hey look, that one looks like Orion..." The artist mumbled next to him, "I'm sure that's Orion. He's the hunter. Look that's his bow..."

That had Baekhyun's attention, "Huh?"

"Orion was in Artemis's pack but he got really close to her, and that triggered her brother Apollo and he caused his death. Also, Orion was blind - a punishment for violating a girl," Chanyeol said, his hands outstretched to the sky, "There are varying myths, but some say that Orion was in love with Artemis."

There was silence for a while, "How did Apollo cause his death?"

"There are two myths - one that he was too proud and boasted that he could kill anything that came from the Earth so Gaia created the Scorpion and the other was that Apollo challenged Artemis to shoot a figure in the distance and said something like 'I bet you can't shoot that,' but she did and it was Orion. She converted him into a constellation," Chanyeol said. There was a smile on his face, because he had no idea that he had just cursed the moonlight for Baekhyun. The archer couldn't stop thinking about it even after they got home. He had been supposed to sleep, but there he was, reading through Orion's story.

For some reason, it reminded him of himself.

Orion was blind, had regrets, fell in love, and got burnt. He was meant to be burnt because his love - or whatever his feelings were - they weren't... accepted. He was driven to insanity. The Earth had come alive to kill him.

Another piece tangled up in feelings and the play of the gods.

It was clear to Baekhyun...although he didn't understand it enough, as he looked outside his window towards the moon, things were clearer to him. He got off the bed and closed the curtains. How could he trust the moon when it knew all the secrets and had seen everything that had happened?

How could he be so open to a light, a temporary shelter, some periodic peace, when the moon itself had fallen?  _ Chanyeol...Chanyeol was recovering too.  _ Baekhyun couldn't fall back on him. In this phase of mutual development and recovery, either their love will burn like a warm, comforting fire, or it will  _ burn,  _ burn their hearts, and their minds and their souls.

And Baekhyun knew that he wouldn't be able to handle another heartbreak - there was a limit after all, and Chanyeol...well, Chanyeol was just like him.

He didn't want their relationship to continue just because they couldn't handle the pain if it didn't. No, he wanted it to bloom instead, like a cherry tree opening up in Spring, but like Orion, he was caught up in a web too.

With all his hands and feet bound and tied, he could only hold his breath and hope that they'd make it out of the fiery flames that had surrounded them whole...although that was unlikely.

It was this...fear of the boundary between the known and the unknown, and the impending doom that he felt heavily on his shoulder that kept him awake, and aching. This was why he had stuck to archery -  _ because it was a constant. _

There was a haze, like sea foam on the horizon, and Baekhyun was afraid to reach it, but his ship had already started sailing. All he could do was wait...and hold his breath.

  
  
  


It was a rainy day.

Chanyeol paced around the art museum. He had been in here for the past four hours, and now he was bored. His initial plan was to pick Baekhyun up from his training and eat cake or something, but the archer had debunked that -  _ I'm going to practice. The World Archery Championships are very near, you know? -  _ The artist had no idea what practice Baekhyun was doing in this rain. He figured he was probably going through a mental training, as he walked. He had wanted to leave the museum two hours ago but this heavy downpour wouldn't stop.

He sighed, and sat on a tiled fixture. It wasn't an art piece...hopefully. In front of him was a short memo kind of display wall about several well-known classic artists. In the bottom of the list was his old pal, Vincent Van Gogh. He was Chanyeol's favourite artist, for a variety of reasons. For starters, Van Gogh had synesthesia too - Chromesthesia, the thing Chanyeol had. Other than that, the artist had gone insane at some point and cut off his own ear. But above everything, it was his painting style - the textured still-life was converted into a dreamy sort of world. Chanyeol could look at his paintings and think about them for a long, long time.

His favourite painting of the artist was Wheatfield with Crows. It was the painting Chanyeol found himself relating to on a spiritual level. The theme wasn't as profoundly obvious as it was in Sorrow or other Post-Impressionism paintings that he had made, and yet, if you looked at that painting for a little time, the emotions, or the lack thereof, spoke for the impact of that art piece.

Chanyeol wished he had somebody he could rant to about this painting, but he didn't. Baekhyun was busy, and the artist didn't want him to experience the emotions that the painting triggered, because Baekhyun was on the journey of recovery - or at least he hoped so. So what could Chanyeol do? He took out his laptop, opened notes and typed away his feelings about the painting.

The note started like this -  _ Wheatfield with Crows - A Suicide Note?  _ Chanyeol had been admiring that painting for a long, long time, and his perception of the several elements had transformed over time, thus the first thing he wrote about was the fluidity of the painting based upon its interpretations, and how the interpretation of this painting could reveal personalities.

Baekhyun's mother had once been a person that he'd been excited to talk to, since she was an artist as well. When he was younger, he had thought that she would help him understand the use of the elements and the need for them - but no, all she had said was, " _ That painting? Of that crazed artist? It's nothing special. It's just like a child's drawing of a landscape with a crayon."  _ But had she ever wondered what was the reason why she looked at it, and labelled it as she did?

Secondly, Chanyeol wrote about the volumes of loneliness that the painting spoke about. Paintings...they had voices, but people thought that only their ears could hear - and that was probably why the world was not that nice of a place? Because people heard using their ears, spoke using their voices - and they stopped there. Thirdly, Chanyeol wrote about the hopelessness, the fear, the feeling of impending doom that a person that stepped directly into the dark blue had and the ending ways. There were choices but you didn't know where they led - there were dead ends and the only thing you could see was the fear at bay, the unknown, the pain. 

And the crows cry in the long silence, and you stare at the options. The fields stay calm, swaying with the wind, their uniformity obvious in their colours, and yet they're haunting you.

You're at peace but you're not.

You're safe but you're scared.

You have to move forward but you can't.

So you stay there in the fear. You don't move forward. You don't want to move forward. You look at the dark sky, the never-ending paths, and keep hoping that the skies will clear up. The birds keep crowing. Are you jealous of the crows? Or are you scared? They keep moving forward. They probably know what's next. Yet you are just existing in a nightmare, barely okay, and the only way to ensure happiness is the unknown.

You'll drive yourself insane if you don't decide, but this insanity, you think, should be more peaceful than the impending doom. You don't know - confusion, loneliness, sadness fill you up. You're overwhelmed, and you're still standing...in the wheat field with the crows.

It was a marvelous painting.

"Indeed, it is," Chanyeol jumped at the sudden voice, and the flash of mustard in his mind. He turned to his side and saw a good-looking man with his hair swept to the side. The man, probably in his late twenties, was wearing prim, yet casual clothes. His glasses cast shadows on his dimpled cheeks, "Oh, calm down! I didn't mean to scare you. I've been sitting here for about an hour as you typed and you didn't notice..."

Chanyeol was  _ really  _ engrossed in that painting. He scratched his head sheepishly, "Oh...I am sorry. I'm not really that ignorant. I was just-"

"Occupied, yeah, I can see that," The man smiled at his laptop, and then took a hand out, "I am Yixing. Zhang Yixing. And you are?"

"I - Oh, I am Park - Park Chanyeol," He stumbled with his words, "I'm sorry, I'm really...uh,  _ awkward? _ "

The guy laughed, "There's nothing to apologize for Chanyeol," His eyes fell on Chanyeol's bag, "You're an artist, right?"

"Uh... I guess."

"I am sure you're a really amazing one. Sorry for being a creep but I was kind of reading the Van Gogh review, and I must say...you have an eye for detail. I have never seen anybody describe the colour contrasts with such vigour and think about it on such an...emotional level."

Chanyeol blushed lightly at that, "Yeah, I'm a very emotional person."

"It's your strength," He smiled, "Is your style like his was?"

Chanyeol blinked, "Uh...no, not really? I draw modernistic paintings, which are kind of symbolic and expressionist. Most of them are abstract or semi-abstract, although these days, I have been interested in drawing semi-abstract romanticized paintings," He mentally cringed after he finished his rambling, "Ah...that doesn't even make sense..."

Yixing chuckled, "It is kind of confusing. Can you show me some paintings? I'm really interested in art."

Chanyeol smiled easily, "Yeah, why not?" He opened his art drive on his laptop, "Although...I have to warn you, my paintings are very colour-based at times. I - uh - I have chromesthesia," The artist didn't know why it was so easy to talk about his condition to this stranger, but it probably had something to do with him being a stranger. A strange comfort.

"You must really like Van Gogh, then," Yixing chuckled, "Although, please practice more self-preservation,"  _ I wish I did. _

"This...is the first painting that got in an exhibition," Yixing's jaw dropped as he looked at the beauty, "It's called Red. It's one of my favourite works."

For the next hour, they looked through Chanyeol's paintings - his life story - including but not limited to Red, Harps, Black Sheets, Moonlight, A Tear, The Ideal Eagle, Hands, Target and the most recent one -  _ Orion. _

Every painting had a story. In most of them, the protagonist was the same, regardless of whether he'd been represented or not. It was when Yixing was looking at Hands - a painting which at first glance looked like hands coming out for support, and only after staring for a good while, you realized they were choking you, like the people around him - when the older revealed -

"I am actually an art curator, and Park Chanyeol, I have never been more interested in working with someone than I am with you. Say, do you want to talk about it over a cup of coffee?"

_ Holy Shit.  _

  
  
  


Baekhyun sat on the dining table. His eyes were fixed to the door, awaiting Chanyeol's arrival. The taller was at least late by three hours, and he wasn't picking up any calls. His last text had arrived four hours ago, a simple -  _ I'll be late.  _ How late though? After living together for so many days, they had developed a shared routine, and right now, they were supposed to be heading for bed after eating dinner. However today, the routine consisted of Chanyeol being god knows where and Baekhyun sighing at least ten times every minute.

The taller could have at least sent a text to notify Baekhyun that he was safe!

After the archer had tried...yeah, life and all of its forms had become very precious to him. There were nights spent wondering about things that had pushed him to that decision, and how he could solve them and then, there were nights spent remembering the sensations, everything that he had felt that night - the emotions, the feelings and the sex.

The clock struck loudly, and another sigh escaped Baekhyun's lips. However, it was short-lived because his attention was consumed by his mobile screen lighting up. It was a text from Chanyeol -

_ Go to sleep now. I'll spend tonight with my family. I'll tell you about my day tom. Good night. _

Baekhyun sighed again. He was disappointed. He wasted all these hours waiting and worrying while Chanyeol was probably enjoying himself with his parents -  _ how pathetic.  _ He took a bite of the cold food, decided he wasn't that hungry and went to bed. The house seemed surprisingly lonely when Chanyeol wasn't home, even though the taller wasn't all that loud when he  _ was  _ there, but that was the thing about him. Chanyeol was like the huge sky - silent, but always there, sheltering.

_ Don't depend on him so much, Baekhyun. He's recovering too. _

Yeah...lay back, because you never know when the sky may thunder and storm.

  
  
  


Baekhyun heard Chanyeol before he saw him. He wasn't a light sleeper per se, but the sound of keys, horns and a door opening and shutting woke him up. He glanced drowsily towards the door of his room, expecting it to open soon. He could hear Chanyeol humming, and he found himself smiling involuntarily. The taller was happy.

His door was opened, and Chanyeol walked in with a big smile, which immediately turned into a frown -

"You shut all the windows? It's such a nice day!" Baekhyun didn't reply. He couldn't explain.

"Where were you yesterday?" He asked, his voice heavy from the sleep. Chanyeol smiled at him, and sat next to him on the bed, and the archer immediately replaced his pillow with Chanyeol's lap. There, better.  _ So much for maintaining boundaries.  _ Chanyeol's hand weaved through his hair, and Baekhyun purred. He could stay like this all day - no, really! Today was a well-deserved day-off for both of them.

"I went to the Art Museum, spent a long time there, and you know what happened - oh wait, I'll tell you in detail later - and then I got coffee-"

"Alone?"

"No, with someone."

"That girl?" Aish. Why was he pouting? He wasn't the jealous one - scratch that, yes he was.

Chanyeol frowned at him, "Which girl... - Oh! The one I met at the Youth-thingy," He chuckled, "No, no. I went with an art curator," The artist smiled shyly at him, "He was interested in signing a deal with me, so we went to my house later, where we discussed everything."

Baekhyun got up with curious eyes, "You signed it?"

  
  


"Uh...I'll officially sign it today, but yes, we agreed and went over the terms and legal stuff," Chanyeol looked so cute being shy of his achievement like that, "It's a pretty big art curator too...I met him by luck."

Baekhyun blinked, "Which one? I might know him."

"Ah, he's called  _ Zhang Yixing. _ " For a moment, there was silence, and then Baekhyun held up a hand in front of himself -

"Whoa, whoa, wait," He looked at Chanyeol as if he had grown a third eye, "You're telling me you are going to sign a deal with  _ the Zhang Yixing?" _

"I literally just said that."

Baekhyun shook his head, like a machine getting overheated, "I know, I know. It's just that - I'm kind of overwhelmed? Cause like, he's  _ huge.  _ My mom wanted a deal with him but she couldn't get one -  _ that big!" _

"I...I know."

Baekhyun smiled then and jumped right into Chanyeol's arms, "Ugh, I'm so proud of you. We're gonna be that hot super-cool super-swag successful couple, you know?"

"..."

"Oh, right. We'll be the nice successful cute boys then."

Chanyeol chuckled and pecked Baekhyun's lips, "Or we can just be Chanyeol and Baekhyun. Sounds realistic, doesn't it?"

The archer wanted to protest, but he was too busy getting kissed, "Sounds hopelessly romantic."

  
  
  
  


Chanyeol signed the deal at 12 PM. Yixing loved all of his works and wanted him to create more, and more. The taller had never been so...inspired or so in love with art. Even though it was the only day they could go out, like on a date like other normal couples, they didn't because Chanyeol stayed locked in his room, painting all afternoon. However, after a while, he allowed Baekhyun in.

The archer reclined on the bed, watching Chanyeol draw. Confession by Park Hye Kyung was echoing in the room, and Baekhyun noted with surprise that the artist was using pink colour - a rare occurrence.

"What are you painting?" He asked, munching on biscuits, as he was hungry like always.

"When did you first realize you were in love with me?"

Baekhyun frowned, "What's that got to do with this?"

"Answer."

The archer shuffled on the bed, "I think - I think it's when I first opened up to you. We were walking back from Jaksal Chicken...or, maybe it was when you shouted Jaksal Chicken during the match...or when you had that panic attack..."

"I'm drawing that."

"What?"

Chanyeol turned to look back at him. His eyes were sparkling -

"How the realization of being in love feels like. It's magical."

  
  
  


The painting was magical.

Sprinkled by white, red, blue, silver, green, pink and gold, a cherry blossom tree, the moon, a sparkling river, two silhouettes holding hands in the distance - Baekhyun could only stare at the painting.

"It's...it's -" He choked up, "Beautiful."

The sun had already set outside. That was how much involved Chanyeol had been in this painting. He had been drawing since the morning. The artist was staring at the painting too -

"You know, I actually love this painting," He put a hand over his chest, "No, I am like, really proud of this painting."

Baekhyun didn't hold himself back. He put his arms around the taller, and turned him towards himself, and kissed him...and that was magical too.

  
  
  


Then, the magical day had passed and the sun had risen up once again, on their naked bodies, tangled up with each other. As Baekhyun stared at Chanyeol who was still sleeping, he felt his heart ache. He wanted the best for the artist, and also wanted to be happy himself. He wanted the best for both of them...but for some reason, he couldn't guarantee whether they would bring happiness or pain to each other. His hands were threading through Chanyeol's messy hair. Now, even the artist had found a path - he just had to follow it to the very top...Baekhyun could only pray that they would stay together.

But something inside him told him that they wouldn't.

But that something was attacked by the dear amount of love and affection Baekhyun harboured for this man, and that was scary too. What if Baekhyun - a lost boy - made rash decisions just for a love he had no idea would hold or not? He didn't want to be hurt again.

He got up from the bed, and tenderly removed Chanyeol's hand from around his waist. The taller shifted a little and buried his face into Baekhyun's side. The sight made him tear up and laugh -  _ ah, why am I getting so emotional?  _ He looked outside the window and the sight of the huge sky only worried him more - he was just... so worried. So scared. He didn't know what to do.

There was a huge bundle of confusion in his chest. He just wanted...his parents, for they were older, they were stable. He wanted home, wanted advice - a place that he could fall back to if things went wrong. Tears were streaming down his face already. Who was going to collect his broken pieces and hold him together? How could he just put all of himself into Chanyeol who was just as hurt as he was?

He didn't know, had no idea. The confusion was so painful, like a thorn in his bed of roses, always hurting him.

He loved Chanyeol so much… but he was so afraid.

He got out of the bed and got dressed up fast. Chanyeol came out just when the shorter was about to leave -

"You're leaving already?"

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, "You woke up late."

"You should have woken me up..."

"I thought you'd be tired after last night, you know," A light blush fell onto his face even when he didn't intend for it. The red was reflected on Chanyeol's face too -

"You're okay? Not...aching anywhere, right?" The taller stepped closer to him and hugged him tightly. Baekhyun smiled. He loved hugs.

"I'm more than okay, Chanyeol. Also, I made breakfast - although only like half of it is edible." Chanyeol laughed in his shoulder -

"That's okay," He kissed him, "I'll see you during lunch?"

Baekhyun averted his eyes, "I don't think so. I have training, because of the competition..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll pick you up today, though, so text me when you're done, okay?"

After exchanging goodbyes, they were out doing their respective jobs. It was a healthy relationship...and yet, why did Baekhyun feel so, so lonely?

  
  
  


Baekhyun's shooting was really steady, although it wasn't that accurate.

"Baekhyun, I think you should aim for more tens," Kyungsoo said, "You're getting constant eights and nines." The doe-eyes looked out at the other side, where Kim Minseok shot an arrow and voila! It hit a ten.

Baekhyun sighed, "I think it's better if I take a short break."

"Yeah, do you want anything?"

"Uh...lemonade?"

"I'll get it. Go clear your head."

Baekhyun walked towards the edge, feeling his footsteps being heavy. He sat down near Kim Minseok with the intention to watch the man shoot. The cat-eyes turned towards him sharply -

"What do you think you're doing here, Byun?" He muttered, before shooting a nine.

"I am learning," The archer reclined back and watched Minseok closely.

"Learning? From me? When you're the Great King and what not," There was an edge in his voice, and he shot again. This time too, it was a nine, "Looks like you jinxed my tens."

"I think it's your shoulders. They drooped when I sat here," His implication was obvious and Minseok hardened his muscles and straightened his posture. When he shot again, it was a ten.

"You know, if you're so observant, you should be shooting tens yourself and not bothering with  _ amateurs  _ like me," Baekhyun picked on the grass -

"Am I observant? I was only able to shoot eights and a few tens," He tugged on a blade of grass, "Sad, isn't it?"

"Did you come here looking for pity? Because I have none to spare. Let me continue practicing so that Coach realizes why I am a better pick than you," Another arrow. It was an eight, "Aish. My arms feel heavy."

He shot again, and this time it was a ten again. Baekhyun looked at him intently for a few seconds, watching the sweat dribbling down his chin. He couldn't hold it in any longer -

"Minseok," He asked carefully, "What pushes you to work so hard? Don't you just feel like...dropping your bow sometimes?" His voice was empty.

Minseok stopped shooting, and lowered his bow with a sigh, "Can you please stop with your depressant phase again? Just work hard."

"I was just curious..." Baekhyun looked down at the grass, weaving his fingers through the blades. Minseok shot again, but this time it was only a seven -

"Aish!" He stomped his foot angrily, and turned to glare at Baekhyun, "This is your fault!"

Baekhyun was taken aback, "Why? What did I do?"

The other archer sighed and with deflated shoulders, he sat next to Baekhyun, "You asked me what my inspiration was, right?"

"Yeah, but you don't have to answer if you don't want to..."

"It's you," Minseok sighed, and buried his face into his hands, "I started archery because when I was twelve, I went to a match and saw you - you were barely ten years old and yet, you looked so poised, like a superhero, as if you could shoot away every problem ever. There was something about you..."

Baekhyun felt his heart strings being played.  _ Chanyeol...he said the same thing. _

"I started archery when I was fifteen, though, and at the age of thirteen, you were already the best form. By the time you turned sixteen, you were our local hero. You never lost that thing, you know? Something special that only you had," Kim Minseok looked at Baekhyun and for the first time, his eyes showed emotion, "You have no idea how much I yearned to defeat you. That day when you told me I'd go very far...I felt happy to the brim."

Baekhyun was speechless. He shook his head, "You - you really couldn't have chosen a worse person to idolize..."

There was a pat on his shoulders, "You say that now, because you look at the wreckage you're surrounded by, but if you just looked at yourself - I looked at you all those years ago, and I saw something special in you, Baekhyun."

His vision was getting blurry, "But - but that was...long ago. It's - it's  _ gone.  _ Whatever you saw - it isn't here anymore!" It was getting harder to breathe.

A hand soothed his back, "I don't think it's gone, Baekhyun. It's just dulled by all the other things that you have started carrying, and no, I'm not talking about your child. You just need to shed away the pain, and the regrets and...  _ shine. _ "

Baekhyun shook his head, overwhelmed, and Minseok smiled sadly at him -

"If you shine, then I can dream to shine brighter than you, Baekhyun. Please...just,  _ shine, _ " Minseok took in a deep breath and stood up, "I know one day you eventually will, and I'll regret this talk. But till then - till then, I'll practice harder to become better than you."

Kyungsoo found Baekhyun later, shaking as he tried to suppress his sobs, "Baekhyun? What happened? Should I call Chanyeol?"

The archer shook his head, "You know I-" He sobbed, "I just realized that friends are cool and all, but - but a good rival...is the best thing you could ever have," He looked up at Kyungsoo, "I swear it's my hormones." Kyungsoo had recently been told about Baekhyun's pregnancy by Chanyeol. The boy hadn't reacted that much - he'd just been concerned about Baekhyun's health.

Kyungsoo laughed, "Well, Baekhyun-shi, having a rival isn't enough. The next step is defeating him."

Baekhyun smiled, "Oh, I will. Just watch me."

He stood next to Kim Minseok after drinking his lemonade and picked up his bow. The cat-eyed man rolled his eyes, "Up so fast? I thought you'd sit and cry for a hundred more hours."

"Oh, shut up, I just wanted to give you the spotlight for a bit."

"We'll see about that."

They notched the arrows simultaneously and then they released. Baekhyun whooped as his hit a ten, while Minseok's was suspended on the line between nine and ten - technically a ten, but still. The cat-eyed archer growled but he was smiling, "The next one is going to be mine!"

They kept shooting for a long time, and after a long time, Baekhyun felt like he was shining. This feeling...he loved archery, he loved shooting, he loved winning, he...loved  _ shining. _

  
  
  
  


Chanyeol stopped when he saw the sight.

The sight – Baekhyun was shooting arrows after arrows whilst Kim Minseok tried to match his pace. His ears rang as he heard the sparkling red laughter escaping from his archer when the other archer missed an arrow.

“He looks beautiful when he’s happy, right?” Kyungsoo came to stand next to him.

Chanyeol nodded, “Yes. He does.”

The artist could already feel inspiration settling in his hands, and he pictured what he would draw once he reached home. He quietly sat somewhere, without interrupting Baekhyun. Beautiful things…ought not to be disturbed.

The next day, at approximately five thirty in the evening, two silhouettes stepped out from a long, sleek car and made their way out to a dingy, old place. The shorter of them sighed –

“It’s still closed.”

The taller leaned down and put money into the donation box. The dusky rays shone down at them. Another figure stood behind them at a distance. A bow was draped over the hungry figure, who was holding hands with his younger brother. They watched the rich figures curiously.

The shorter of the two leaned in towards the taller, “Ugh, I feel tired.”

“Did you practice way too much?” The taller said, “You and Kim Minseok have kind of been duelling like a crazed pair.”

The shorter laughed and his laughter ringed around the empty perimeter, “I know. It’s fun, but no, I think it’s my pregnancy symptoms. I want to…ah, eat cold chocolate from a cup and go to sleep.”

The distant figure took in a deep breath. His mind was reeling fast. Then, the door of the shop opened and a girl with a bun stepped out in surprise –

“Baekhyun!?”

“Yee Bun!?”

The figures hugged, “How are you, Baek? How’s the baby?”

The younger of the distant figures – not that distant, mind you, just distant in the comparison of importance and money from the other two figures – tugged at the older’s bow –

“We should leave.”

They left. The other three were left to reconcile, and they could never estimate just how bad of a storm was going to hit them…until it hit them.

Baekhyun woke up in cold sweat. He had a bad dream, although he didn’t remember what it was. For a little while, he stayed on the soft bed, gasping, breathing, and trying to stay  _ grounded  _ and then, he threw the blankets away and got up to face the day. He opened his windows – something that he wasn’t fond of doing anymore – and his heart sank a little as he stared at the dark purple sky. Thunderstorms weren’t uncommon in Korea, after all.

He shut the windows again.

There was an uncanny silence around the house, which made sense because he was the only one awake – which meant that there was a clear solution. He jumped into the other room and banged the door open, “Chanyeol-ah!”

The tall burrito shifted a little, “…”

Baekhyun was having none of it. He crawled his way into the bed and shifted until he was directly in his boyfriend’s arms, and his boyfriend was awake. The taller looked down at him with dazed blinking eyes and Baekhyun winked at him –

“Hey there.”

“…Hi,” Chanyeol shifted so that Baekhyun had place to breathe, “Good morning.”

“I think it’s storming outside though,” Chanyeol got up on his elbow, and fought tug of war with the white curtains –

“Is it?”

“Yes, it’s really pink outside – and no! Don’t start painting again. I want attention!” These days, every time they had good days, Chanyeol got inspired and started painting, and that was really good, but…yeah, the archer kind of missed his artist even though they were in the same house. How could that even be possible?

Chanyeol laughed, “I’ll be honest, I was about to, but I’m way too tired.”

Last night, Chanyeol had finished an extremely detailed painting. It was Baekhyun – more specifically his one-fourth profile, laughing as he held his bow. It was very beautiful and romanticized. The thing the archer loved most about Chanyeol’s painting was the colours. Aside from the intricate painting of the main object – that was Baekhyun – the artist had sprinkled the rest of the painting with reds, and pinks and greens, to exactly draw out how the scene had looked to someone like him, just a bit more exaggerated.

Chanyeol’s art was extraordinary.

After a bit of talking, and kissing, they got up and it was only when they moved that Baekhyun felt dread settling in his gut. Chanyeol noticed his hesitation –

“What is it?”

Something bad was going to happen. He just knew, “I don’t know.”

Chanyeol’s jaw hardened. Wheatfield with Crows –  _ an impending doom, an unexplainable surrounding fear, strong hard decisions to make.  _ Baekhyun didn’t know about the painting, but he knew that Chanyeol understood –

“I’m…scared.”

The taller hugged him, “Let’s just hope that it’s events that go wrong and not... you.” Now, that might have seemed confusing but Baekhyun understood –  _ let’s hope it isn’t your mental progress the burns away.  _ Chanyeol was kind to phrase it in a way where he didn’t seem like a bomb that could go off at inconvenient times.

“Whatever happens, I’ll be there, okay?”  _ What if it affects you too? What if you’re hurt too? Will I be strong enough to help you? _

“Okay.”

The magnitude of the doom was greater than what Baekhyun could handle. His tears were marked frozen on his cheeks. He couldn’t move. His Coach was speaking, and he heard, but he wasn’t listening –

“It’s not a big deal, Baekhyun. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Don’t be worried, okay? We’re going to make it out.”

“Baekhyun?”

“It’s going to be okay!”

“Kyungsoo, he’s…not responding. Call Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol came but he too froze when he heard what happened, “You’re – you’re kidding me, right? Tell me you’re joking!” And he sat defeated next to his boyfriend. None of them spoke or provided comfort. This…this was what Baekhyun was speaking about, yet nobody listened, not even he himself and now, the stars that had been aligned in their favour for the entirety of this week had finally broken away, leaving them stranded.

Three out of every five most popular news sources were talking about them – talking about both of them dating, talking about Baekhyun being pregnant. People obviously linked it in one way – that it was Chanyeol’s child, but they didn’t know that it was worse. There were people fighting – saying that no, a male carrier shouldn’t represent their nation, and then there were people saying that there was no problem with him being a male carrier, but that he should abort his child. Then, there were people who just hated him for being gay.

Hate, hate, hate.

They were too fragile to deal with it.

They just wanted drops of love, and a cup of hope.

But all they got was buckets of pain, and oceans of hate.

And now, the sky was misery.

Baekhyun was sent back to shooting, and Chanyeol tried to calm himself down by watching him. They were both silent, numb, lost and confused. Was it…worth national humiliation and hate and pain and misery and confusion? He could just sit there and think. Baekhyun’s hands were shaking. He couldn’t shoot and Chanyeol couldn’t comfort him.

They were just…frozen.

Just then, there was a long honk outside, and the sound of a car door being opened and then shut with equal fervour sounded around the ground. The archers momentarily stopped before picking up their pace again, but not Baekhyun, because he recognized that honk. He looked at Chanyeol, but the artist couldn’t look back at him. He was…scared. He knew that honk too.

From the side of the ground, the click-clack of heels attracted the archers, and some of them gasped – including the Coach. Chanyeol didn’t dare look up –  _ no, not this person, no!  _ He had sinned so hard. How could he date Baekhyun? The artist’s eyes followed the shadow of the woman, and he gulped when the shadow stopped near him momentarily, before continuing her journey.

There was a short gasp on part of Baekhyun, “M-Mom!” He sounded  _ afraid,  _ like a little kid getting reprimanded for stealing the last cookie in the jar. The lady didn’t reply. She grasped the thin wrist of the archer and pulled him –

“You’re coming home with me. Now.”

The archer allowed himself to be pulled away. He couldn’t fight. Chanyeol looked up and his eyes found Baekhyun’s – almost as if there were magnets connecting them to each other. The archer’s face was panicked, shocked and pained. And Chanyeol couldn’t do anything. This…was for the better. Heck, they were only nineteen-years old kids. How could they think that love could hold all problems at bay?

As Baekhyun was dragged out, he realized –  _ it couldn’t. _

_ Oi, little bird, there was anger in your eyes _

_ When you were pulled away and dragged _

_ And I didn’t say a word, let you go _

_ You screamed ‘Betrayal’ for it was only in the morning _

_ That I told you, ‘I’ll be there.’ _

_ I feel pathetic, but I knew you knew… _

_ You knew that this would happen _

_ That we were too broken to fix each other _

_ And that…that was what you were really afraid of. _

__

__

But pain goes both ways.

Chanyeol’s phone rang, and he reluctantly picked it up.

_ “Chanyeol?”  _ Yoora’s voice was grim,  _ “Come at the manor tonight. We need to talk.” _

“…Okay.”

The car ride was about as awkward as it could ever be.

Baekhyun kept shifting on the side, trying to stick closer to the window. His mother sat straight, with a regal aura around her. There was a significant gap between them – a physical gap, but also an emotional gap. Just why did he let her drag him? But the answer was obvious –  _ stability, comfort. _

“Baekhyun,” An assertion, “Out of all the boys, tell me  _ why  _ did it have to be Park?”

The archer only shifted further away, “…You have no right to ask me questions, and I have a right not to answer.”

“Your ‘rights’ don’t work against me, young man, and I’d rather you answer. Did it give you some sort of freedom, or happiness – to do the last thing we would have wanted you to do? Or did you do it because you had some evil plan?” His mother asked. Her tone was monotonous. Baekhyun had regrets. She could never provide him with what he wanted. The answers weren’t at home. The answers were nowhere.

But he still found himself answering, “I…I didn’t have any malicious  _ plan  _ in my mind. I’m not you.”

She tusked, “Your life would have been better if you were.”

“For sure, mother. Your ignorance is your bliss.”

She didn’t comment and scrolled through her phone, “Why did you do it?”

“Simply, I love him.”

She paused her scrolling, “That’s bull, Baek-”

“No, it’s not!” He didn’t know where this surge of anger rose from, “It’s not my fault that you think people should be incapable of emotions! Yes, I can love, and I did!”

She rolled her eyes, “I hope these are your pregnancy symptoms. I wouldn’t want a wreck like you on my hands.”

“I don’t want to be in your hands!”

She didn’t comment and instead changed the subject, “When did you start dating him?”

He found himself answering, “The day of the Youth thing.” A miserable day. A day that would never cease to haunt him.

“Really? Did he tell you that you were good when you shot the first two arrows or something like that? I mean, that is what I’d expect from a nineteen-years old,” She rolled her eyes and Baekhyun felt something in him  _ crack.  _ He was already speaking when he realized that he shouldn’t –

“No, you know when I finally gave in? After I was tired of hearing you guys talk about how you never loved me, I dropped my bow and I went to the terrace. However, the only person who really cared for me saved me before I could...jump.” He didn’t dare say the words ‘kill’ and ‘die.’ They were way too intense and they scared him.

Silence reigned in the car for the rest of the journey. His mother quietened down, and Baekhyun found tears flowing down his cheeks. He wiped them away angrily. He was over it all. He was tired.

_ He was…tired. _

Chanyeol hesitated for the first time ever before entering his home. His hand shook slightly as he rang the bell. A long, never-ending pitch scraped the walls of the house and after forever, the door opened slowly. The artist fumbled with his hands. Yoora opened the door. She bit her lip –

“Come in,” It didn’t sound very welcoming.

He stepped in. The house felt cold. His parents were sitting on the dining table. They didn’t look at him when he entered. His heart froze.

“…Mum,” He called out softly, and the lady finally looked up –

“Chanyeol…sit.”

He obeyed.

“You…you know we have no problem with you being homosexual, but…I don’t understand  _ why  _ you had to choose Byun out of all the possible people. They’ve hurt you a lot in the past, Chan, and as your parent,” she shook her head, “I cannot allow it.”

Chanyeol didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he stood for anymore.

Yoora slumped next to him, “Chanyeol, seriously, you know what happened to me and… _ how can you get into a relationship with that scum _ ?”

He couldn’t answer.

“After everything they put us through, every time they made homophobic comments about you –  _ and he did too –  _ and insulted and hurt you –  _ I can’t believe this!”  _ She shouted. Her fury was barely contained –

“Yoora,” His mother reprimanded, and then turned to Chanyeol, “How did you even start a relationship with him? He was missing for two years!”

_ Ah, the embarrassing part,  _ “Mum…I-”

“And Chanyeol, he’s got a fucking child in him and he’s tainting your reputation too. You’ve just signed those deals and he’s ruining everything!” Yoora said, “Ask dad how much the Byuns made us suffer economically!”

His dad nodded slightly, “You’re aware of everything that went down, and I’m disappointed that you chose to ignore everything and fell in his trap.”

“Exactly! He’s a leech!”  _ No, he’s not. He’s… _ It was true, though. Chanyeol had been played into providing all sorts of comfort for his nemesis, but the problem was that his nemesis had also been played into things. The problem was that in this world of lies, truths and reputations, two stupid teenagers fell in love.

And that’s where things went bad.

But he couldn’t tell them all this. Love couldn’t be shown on a contract – there wasn’t any measurement of it. It wasn’t profitable. You couldn’t use it for your livelihood, and in a capitalist world like theirs…it was useless.

“You only met him at the Youth Gala. Did you start dating then and there?” His sister asked.

“Yes.”

“I can’t…tell me this is a joke, Chanyeol. He’s been missing from everywhere for two years and the last memory you have of him is him probably insulting you. I…I don’t understand,” she said. Her voice sounded broken. She probably had hopes for him and he’d let her crash to the ground.

“You – you don’t understand because you don’t know,” He said quietly, wishing that he could disappear from the world.

“What…what do we not know, Channie?” His mother asked.

“I – about two months ago - Baekhyun – he was sitting drenched in my complex… so I took him in. He’s been living with me for two months, and those two months…were the most eventful months of my life,” he admitted. Yoora’s eyes were round and huge –

“You’re – you  _ willingly let him it?!”  _ She gasped and kept shaking her head at him, “That snake… _ you-” _

His dad got up, and the chair screeched against the ground, “I’m done with this conversation.” He walked up the staircase.

Yoora kept fumbling and throwing her words around, “Even – even when you knew what his – his brother did, you…let him  _ stay?” _

“It…it wasn’t his fault-”

“Yes, it was his fucking fault! He got ruined. Karma bit him back. Whatever happens, why did you have to care?!” She screamed, and then she stopped, “Oh, never mind, it’s because you love him, right?” And then she left too, shaking her head, “I can’t believe this…I really can’t…”

There was only his mother left. His mother, who had tried so hard to get him over his fears and anxiety. She’d been so glad when he had told her that he would finally try therapy.

He looked at her, and he found his throat closing up, “Mom –  _ mom,  _ I – I –  _ he’s just a kid too _ ,” He ended up sobbing, “He went through a lot too!”

His mother got up and moved towards him, “Aish, this is why I worry about you. You’ve got a soft-heart, Chanyeollie, and people – people take advantage of you all the time-”

“ _ Mom, no! _ ” He sobbed, “Listen to me…at least, let me  _ speak. _ ”

She made him sit on the chair and sat down too, “Speak then.”

His throat was clogged and his tears wouldn’t stop but he tried speaking, “He – when I found him – I didn’t take him in…but it was night, and cold and raining and he had nothing on him –  _ nothing! –  _ just one layer of clothing, covered in sweat and his archery kit, and he was pale and weak and he passed out – right there. I…Mom, he legit passed out.”

His mother sighed, “Poor child.”

“And the next day he said he was going to archery practice and I was worried because… because I just was. But he didn’t even stay with me. He stayed with a learning manager – who was also just a poor child, and then he felt like a burden so he left and came back to my building. And even then, I didn’t take him in. I left him but I think after midnight – a storm came in, a big one – and  _ I just couldn’t  _ and he asked if he could stay and I…I let him.”

She didn’t say anything. He continued.

“I didn’t even treat him that well, really, but we – we got attached anyway and you won’t understand how sad he was when he saw his ex with another girl who was carrying and every day was a fight for him – whether he should do archery or not – and he just got worse and worse until he tried to end his life,” His mom finally looked up –

“And I love him. I tried so hard to move on, but…I’m sorry…” He started sobbing again, “I just…can’t help it.”

His mother sighed again, “Chanyeol…you aren’t responsible for drying someone’s tears or causing them. I think…given Baekhyun’s state and given yours too –  _ you should try…harder to move on.  _ He’s had it hard, I know, but that…isn’t your responsibility. Be a little selfish sometimes, will you? Fight for your happiness,” She looked down at him, “Your happiness matters more than him.”

He left the house with a heavy heart.

And even heavier decisions he had to make. 

Baekhyun was made to sleep in his old room that night. It all felt like a joke to him.

He sat on the windowsill with his feet pulled up to his chest and let the cold wind of the night ease the redness and dryness on his cheeks, a result of shedding countless hot, steamy tears all afternoon. A lot had happened that day. The stories of two years had finally spread. He had let himself be sort of accepted into his house. He didn’t know why he did that – it was probably because he saw his ever-non-emotional family as a guard against all the pain.

He shouldn’t have ever left.

He wasn’t strong enough to begin with, and now he knew. Now, he knew that his temporary freedom and relief had only caused him loads and loads of pain. He had been to the edge…but now he was back to this sheltered rich house, done with the walks by the river to reach the University, done with closing his windows, and stepping into that paint-filled house, done with parties, and drinking and the thrill of youth –

\-  _ done with waiting for Chanyeol _ .

He knew they were doomed and yet, he held on. The taller couldn’t even look him in the eye. Was it…was every confession just a lie? Oh how stupid he was..

He smiled bitterly.

How stupid were his parents! If they could hear his thoughts, they would probably think he owned them, but he didn’t. These thoughts were a small part of him, the one that yearned for some sort of old comfort that he could stabilize himself with. But that small part didn’t make him up. Maybe, he was stupid and dumb…but, at least he was alive.

“Baekhyun! It’s ready!” Jongdae, his old best-friend and butler that he had left behind shouted. The car was on the road. Baekhyun knew the way out. He stepped out of his window, held the branch of the tree dearly, and slid down like an expert – an expertise that was the result of several nights of running away from his confined house built on lies.

Because his parents could give him money and food and shelter…but they couldn’t give him love. And it was complex – he wanted them back, but he didn’t want to be  _ one  _ with them. Right now, he didn’t want anyone.  _ Because he was fine by himself.  _ Baekhyun stepped in the car.

“Where are we going?” Jongdae asked, handing him the GPS. He smirked and quickly filled the address and handed the device back –

Jongdae frowned as he saw that there were no results before his teeth grew in that familiar Chesire smile –

“All right, we’re heading to  _ Destination: Unknown. _ ”

  
  


It all started long, long ago. The sky was a pale yellow, like the page of a crisp newspaper. Mrs. Byun clasped the hand of her younger son tightly. She was taking him around the garden, telling him about various plants that they had sown. She liked plants a lot. They were nice objects for her paintings, and little Baekhyun was fascinated by the plants. His favourite flower was Rose; however, he didn’t think much of the flower itself. He was amazed by its thorns – the pointy end had once stuck in his finger and red blood had oozed out. Little Baekhyun had been amazed –

“Mama! Men bleed by guns and knives but look!” He showed her his finger, “It’s bleeding!”

The lady gasped, “Oh my…how did you hurt that?” She called for a maid, who immediately bandaged his hand. Baekhyun came to know that he was struck by the thorn of a rose flower. Ever since then, he’d started looking out for the flower – not for its beauty, but for the danger it possessed.

That crispy afternoon, two people – a lady and her son – stepped into the Byun garden. Baekhyun greeted them, and as his mother talked to the lady, the little boy looked at the other boy. He frowned as he saw the huge, elephant ears and a very big smile – too wide for his face. Soon, their mothers allowed them to go wander while they talked. Now, Baekhyunnie wasn’t very fond of talking to strangers – not that he was shy. It was quite the opposite, actually. He didn’t like to approach people first. He felt like it altered his cool self. He was barely four years old.

Hands in his pockets, trying to imitate Baekbeom, he strode off to the dark vines. He wasn’t foolish enough to go deeper and risk getting hurt, but he was foolish enough to stand there coolly and leave the other boy alone in the big garden. Soon enough, to his right, where the orchids lay, there was a gasp. The little boy scurried to the site of the sound and his lips formed an ‘O’ as he realized what was happening – the wide-smiled boy was staring at the roses, numbers of them, with wonder in his eyes. An awkward clumsy hand came out to reach the flowers and Baekhyun found himself hurrying forward, even though it was against his rule of cool conduct –

“Hey!” He called out to the boy, “Yellow boy! Don’t hurt yourself.”

The boy frowned. He didn’t understand what the other guy was saying. All he saw was red, red, red – he didn’t know the names of the colours that well yet. He thought yellow was red. He didn’t understand how he’d hurt himself.

“Rose coloured,” Chanyeol found himself muttering, pointing a finger at Baekhyun, “You’re rose coloured.”

The other didn’t pay much attention. He stood beside the wide-smiled boy and pointed at the flowers, “You see these flowers? They hurt! They have… _ thorns. _ ” Thankfully, he remembered the word.

“You mean…arrows?”

“Arrows?” Baekhyun frowned, “What’s that?” He somehow felt that he knew the term, but he couldn’t recall.

“I’ll show you,” The other boy said, and he held up the wooden stick that he’d picked up in the garden. He planted that stick in the muddy canvas and drew his first non-academic related painting – an arrow. And a bow. Baekhyun hit his head –

“Oh! I know these, yellow boy!”

Chanyeol frowned. He knew yellow was a colour –  _ it was the colour red for him then,  _ “Why am I yellow boy?”

Baekhyun smirked, proud to teach the wide-smiled boy something in return, “It’s because you have a very big smile – like you can make everybody smile! And yellow stands for happiness.”

“…Happy,” Chanyeol smiled even brighter and gave his stick-free hand to Baekhyun, “I’m Park Chanyeol!”

“My name is Byun Baekhyun!”

_ Red. Happiness. _

That, in the past, was a mistake. But still, red had remained happiness for him. Red…it meant so much to Chanyeol. His first painting…had been an arrow and bow – for Baekhyun. They…were meant to be together. There was no other option. 

“You really brought me to my therapist?” Baekhyun said, unimpressed.

Jongdae smiled, “I felt like you needed it.”

“Uh huh.”

Chanyeol and Baekhyun regularly met after that. In parties, grand events, school, home. Everything was good. They weren’t the closest of friends, really. Baekhyun was always with Jongdae and other friends – he didn’t even remember them. They were the rich ones. That’s all he knew. Chanyeol, on the other hand, moved around with Sehun and his friends – all of them were artists, dancers and singers. Their groups often clashed because Baekhyun used to be in the choir.

“Oh, hi Chanyeol!” The brunette would say enthusiastically, taking a seat next to him, “How’s everything?”

They were young back then. Baekhyun was sociable, amiable, accepted and popular. He had not one evil bone in him. In the early years, all throughout middle school, Chanyeol remembered him as the guy who was always cheerful, bright, bubbly, really talkative and yet, dignified. A deep shade of yellow – if Chanyeol had to draw him – or a bright red canvas with rounded dark streaks.

He was always there for everybody.

_ “Chanyeol, I can sing in your track!” _

_ “Hey, hey, that’s too many books you’re carrying. Let me help.” _

Baekhyun had noticed things that others hadn’t.

_ “Are you crying?” A panicked look, “Chanyeol, what is it?” _

_ I’m in love with you but being in love with a man is bad. That’s what the senior said. _

_ “Here,” A cookie, “Cheer up.”“I…I don’t know.” _

Chanyeol had received six gifts from Baekhyun.

The arrows, the bow, and the thorns had been the first. The cookies were the second one.

_ “Chanyeol pissed his pants during his performance!?” Middle-school was evil. The guy laughed and he roared with laughter. Ugly straw. Others joined in. So many colours. Overwhelming. _

_ “Hey!” Suddenly, a burst of red overwhelmed them all, “Stop making fun of others! You didn’t even go up on the stage.” _

_ “Huh, Byun. Whatever.” _

_ They stopped making fun of him. Chanyeol tried wiping his tears and Baekhyun walked towards him, handing him a tissue – but that wasn’t the gift, really. _

_ “Hey, it’s okay. You worked hard for it and you went up there – and that’s what matters,” He smiled at him; that smile was the gift. _

_ “T-thank you.” _

_ “You’re very welcome, Chanyeol!” A grin. _

__

The smile was the third gift. The fourth one was the notes –

_ Chanyeol’s hands were moving so fast. He’d never been more inspired. He was drawing roses and thorns and piano keys and a bow and a smile and a cookie. He didn’t know it then, but this little doodle would go on to become one of the greatest paintings that only got the attention it deserved many years later. The original name of the painting was ‘I think I’m in love,’ however, when it was put in an exhibition, the name was changed to Red. It was pretty self-explanatory. _

_ However, they were in middle school. The teacher called out his name – _

_ “Chanyeol, can you summarize what I just explained right now.” _

_ He looked up and around, panicked. He was unaware that a guy behind him was sneaking at his painting from time to time, while still paying attention to the class. A notebook was handed over to him with the skill of a thief – or a professional archer. On top of the notes was written – Read it Out. He had enough intelligence to join the written points and recite it all in the class. The teacher let him off her hook and the class ended. He sighed in relief. _

_ He turned back to return the notes, and his eyes widened when he saw it was Baekhyun. _

_ “Oh, thanks for the notes. Really saved my life.” _

_ He braced himself for the red, the red that would overcome all these minor colours – _

_ “You’re welcome, Chanyeollie,” A laugh, “Although, I think you should copy it all down. The teacher’s going to quiz us on this tomorrow.” _

_ “Oh – oh, okay.” _

_ He scribbled down the notes quickly, not wanting to make Baekhyun wait anymore, although the class had already ended. However, he didn’t realize that the archer had  _ wanted  _ to wait and stare at the painting shamelessly. His mom drew too, but not like this. This painting was art. He liked it. _

_ And maybe he liked the artist too. _

_ They were still young. They didn’t think much of it. _

_ It would become an issue when they turned thirteen or older, but at twelve, they were still kids with a basic idea of love. However, they didn’t know that that ‘basic idea’ was really all that there was to it. The other things were just…complex. _

_ “Okay, I’m done.” Chanyeol sighed in relief. Baekhyun smiled, but the smile wasn’t really bright. He didn’t want to leave yet. _

_ “Uh…everyone’s already gone,” The archer said, “Let’s go home together!” It was a sudden idea. Chanyeol blushed – _

_ “Sure,” They grabbed their things and moved out. It was winter. It was cold. The sky was white, like a sequin spread out. The ground was a little white too – with soft snow. It was beautiful. They moved out of the school building, in an awkward beat. Chanyeol’s legs were lanky and tall, and Baekhyun’s were fast and short. But soon, they settled in their song.  _ A song that they were still dancing to after all these years.

_ They walked home. Baekhyun hadn’t told Chanyeol that he had outrightly ignored the car that was waiting for him. Chanyeol didn’t tell Baekhyun that his house was directly in the opposite direction of where they were going. Baekhyun didn’t tell Chanyeol they were lost. _

_ They kept walking. It got cold. Baekhyun wasn’t dressed up warmly, so the taller gave him what he thought was his first gift to the archer – a spare jacket that he carried in his bag – always afraid somebody would spray paint or water on him as a prank. Baekhyun’s cheeks warmed really fast. They talked a lot that day, kept talking, bought a hot chocolate that they shared. Chanyeol remembered the conversation by heart, but it was on old memory – one that he would have to sit and unwrap slowly – _

_\- but he remembered one detail clearly, as clear as the white sky overhead._

_ “If you were an animal,” Chanyeol asked, “Which animal would you be?” _

_ Baekhyun pretended to think about it. He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to appear like he thought about weird stuff constantly – _

_ “A little bird.” _

In a sudden moment, Baekhyun realized that this therapy wouldn’t do.

“Baekhyun, you don’t hold a grudge against your mother anymore, and that’s a step ahead.”

He frowned, annoyed, “I clearly hold a grudge. I hate her for kicking me out.”

“Yet you went back to her,”

“Because she was convenient,” He said, trying to make her understand his complex feelings. It was so clear to him. Why was he trying to make them clear to someone who was reciting her psychology classes to him?

“Or, maybe, it’s because you’ve learnt to let go. The next step of action would be-”

“I haven’t let go!” He shouted, “It’s just that it’s inconvenient to fight when I need to strengthen my mental base which you can clearly see is not working!”

“I understand that as an archer-”

“No, you fucking don’t!” He tried not to tear his hair out, and sat back in the annoying chair, “You know what, I’m out of here.” He got up to leave.

“Wait, Baekhyun, the session isn’t complete-”

He stopped, turned back and smiled sardonically, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the whole pay is delivered. Now, bye.”

He should’ve been more selective with the therapist. Well…now it was too late anyway.

He got in the car, “Hi Jongdae.”

“It didn’t go well.” His friend fired up the car.

Baekhyun ran his hand through his hair, “I…need to go somewhere and gain actual therapy.”

“Another therapist?”

“No…I need to go to a building complex. Here’s the address.”

Jongdae frowned, “Whose door are you going to visit?”

“The terrace door. Now, drive.”

As trees, lights and buildings flew past his window in a rhythmic beat, Baekhyun opened the book in his mind that housed something very important and then, he flipped the pages.

Baekhyun fell in love with Chanyeol in four beats. Before the terrace happened.

The first beat played out slowly, like the opening piano of any movie which starts with the characters happy and in place – a beautiful rendition.  _ They were seven. Chanyeol had visited Baekhyun’s house with his parents. That day, his house was crowded. There were many people, many families. Baekhyun liked crowds – but not on that day. He was exhausted from the tiring day he had had. He had lost a competition that day – and he was young, but he knew how victory and failure felt. Victory poured in slow, from all sides, filling you up like a cup of honey and then there was a resounding clap where you woke up and finally started drinking it all up, slowly, happily. Yellow, blues, reds, greens and white. _

_ Failure was different. It started with a slap. A painful realization, and then, the castle you had worked so hard to make crumbled down as if it were made of cards that were got away with a single gust of wind. And then black tar climbed up your feet, slowly, creeping up, darkening, a painful memory. It constricted your airways and made you gasp for breath. Dark and darker shades of pain. _

_ Baekhyun was still feeling the failure burn on his skin slowly, leaving charred black ash behind. He stood out on the balcony, watching the moon which watched him back. What a weird sky it was – black with one ball of paleness in the centre? He didn’t understand how something so unsymmetrical could look so beautiful. Archery was all about posture and symmetry. _

_ Then the huge window door slid open and warm air rushed into the balcony before it was pushed away by the cold winds. A little figure came out – _

_ “Baekhyunnie?” _

_ It was Chanyeol. _

_ “Your mum was worried about you, so she told me to go and look for you,” The taller boy came out to stand beside him and he breathed in the cool air, “Wow, it’s nice here.” _

_ “I feel sad,” He pouted, “I lost a competition today. I don’t want to meet the people inside.” _

_ “Then we can stay here,” The taller sat down on the floor, “It’s comfortable.” _

_ Baekhyun followed suit, “It is.” _

_ They stayed in silence before Baekhyun said, “I want to cry, Chanyeollie,” He sniffed, “But they keep telling me I shouldn’t. I should work harder from now on…” _

_ Chanyeol reached out for his hand, “I think you should cry. You’ll feel empty, and then you can fill it up with yellow.” _

_ Baekhyun smiled but he was already crying. They kept holding hands. Somewhere in the middle, Baekhyun said – _

_ “I’ll be too tired to fill myself up with yellow after this,” He cried more. His shining eyes were like the moon. Chanyeol moved closer to him – _

_ “I’ll do it then, after you’re done,” He was hugged, “Fill Baekhyunnie up with yellow, and make him smile!” _

That was the first beat. On that day, something had ignited in that young heart, something warm, something that was capable of warming him up even now. He was smiling as he looked out at the moon again. They were both grown up now. Life had become more complex. And yet, the moon remained the same. The sky overhead was the same. It was comforting.

The second beat came a little later.  _ Baekhyun was eleven. He was bright. He had many friends. He was in middle-school, and middle-school was hard for everyone. _

_ Baekhyun was standing on the ground. It was break time. He was bored. He could literally talk to anybody, and yet, he wanted to do something else. Something meaningful. He walked a little, and his eyes fell on a figure, sitting against a tree, drawing something. He perked up and walked to the figure, and sat down next to the boy, who paid him no attention, which was new. _

_ Immediately, there was a loud, “Hey! Chanyeollie!” _

_ The boy next to him jumped – his glasses went on a rollercoaster upon his nose, and his curly hair looked messy, “Oh – Baekhyun – hi,” A small, cute hi. _

_ “Hi!” _

_ “Hi.” _

_ “I said ‘HI!’” _

_ “…Hi?” _

_ “No, it’s ‘HI!’” _

_ Chanyeol laughed. It was a sunny day. Baekhyun felt like Chanyeol was the sun. The taller pointed to his notebook, where he quickly drew a tree, and a chibi Baekhyun saying ‘HI!’ while a stick-figured tall and silent Chanyeol just looked at him with wide eyes. _

_ “You have to say it back,” Baekhyun pouted, “Come on! Have energy in your life!” _

_ Chanyeol chuckled, “No, thank you. I’m fine.” _

_ “That’s mean…” _

_ “It really isn’t,” The taller said. _

_ Baekhyun sighed, and he stayed silent as the artist worked, before feeling his dramatic cells awake again – _

_ “You don’t like me!!!” He accused Chanyeol, looking quite hurt about it. What he didn’t know was that Chanyeol was literally in love with him. The taller jumped at the accusation, staring at Baekhyun, with wide eyes – _

_ “No, no – please don’t think that way…” Chanyeol looked sad, “I really like you.” _

_ Baekhyun was very touchy. He smiled brightly, and curled up next to Chanyeol, holding his arm tightly, “I like you too!” Energetic, “Oh wait, you’re really comfortable.” _

_ “…” _

_ Baekhyun suddenly moved away, “Oh, you were painting, right? I’m sorry!” _

_ “Hey, no, it’s okay,” Chanyeol said, holding his arm out, “You look tired. You can rest.” _

_ Baekhyun smiled, touched that Chanyeol noticed he was tired. Others didn’t. Even Baekhyun hadn’t. He did what he was asked, watching the leaves swim in the air, and catch the sun rays. _ It was the second beat.

Chanyeol sighed. The car had been parked in front of this building for a long time – he didn’t even know which building this was. But he’d stopped on the way to think. And so, he continued thinking.

The fifth gift had been yellow. The yellow band wrapped around Chanyeol’s blue brush when he had had the worst day – his parents had found out about him being bullied and so much drama had happened. All he did after that was sit on a bench in the park and paint sad and even sadder things.

And then, Baekhyun had come along.

Yellow stands for happiness.

Chanyeol searched through his songs till he found the song. The guitar beats filled it.  _ It was all yellow.  _ Baekhyun’s favourite song. His favourite song. He didn’t know where Baekhyun was, but he hoped the archer could feel the love that Chanyeol felt for him.

His phone rang as he came to the sixth gift.

Baekhyun was thirteen. Chanyeol was twelve. Now, they weren’t the best of friends, but we all have that one person who just  _ knows  _ us. They didn’t text each other or go to malls and eat, but they could sit under the daylight in silence till the moon peaked out. That’s how they had found the terrace – a community centre where they and some other children of people like them went to. They stayed on the terrace of the centre longer than others – stayed behind when nobody else did.

That night…was special. The fourteenth day of June. The night sky was clear. It seemed as if it was raining with stars.  _ Magical.  _ There was warmth in the air, and a sticky feeling, or that was probably just their nervousness.

It started out slowly, like the sun rising, casting rays everywhere. They talked for a while. Red, blue, purple. Beautiful. They were comfortable. Chanyeol felt it was the right thing to do, when he stood up –

“I have something to say,” He announced, voice heavy.

Baekhyun tilted his head, shaking strands out of his eyes, and looked up at Chanyeol. He looked beautiful.

“I – Baekhyun,” His cheeks were already red, and his eyes were shining, “You – you should stand up too.”

The archer whined, “I kept standing up throughout the whole day!” But he stood up regardless, and Chanyeol dropped to the ground –

“Ah! Is this a game where I stand and you sit, and I sit, and you stand?” He laughed, but his laughter trickled out when Chanyeol shifted upon one leg, and held out something to him, a gift –

“Hey, Baekhyun. I know you might find this weird, for we’re both…boys, but…” He breathed out, “I’m in love with you,” Internal cringing, “You mean a lot to me – I drew my first painting ever for you. You’re bright, and you’re beautiful - handsome if you prefer - and you’re cute, and smart-” It felt like a repeated script. A general confession that Chanyeol decided to drop because it wasn’t as good as it had sounded in his head –

He pointed to the stars, “Do you see them?” He whispered. Baekhyun nodded, “They can see you too.”

The archer looked up. His eyes were shining, “They are so many, so bright…”

“Nothing compared to what I feel for you,” Chanyeol was confident, “Each star is so far away from any other star. They can’t reach out to each other; they can’t reach out to us. They’re unlucky…and yet,  _ I am lucky because I’ve got you, and you shine brighter than any star, or probably all the stars combined. _ ” Honesty dripping in his voice.

They watched the stars for a few moments, and a soft shadow fell over Chanyeol as Baekhyun dropped to the floor next to him, gracefully – grace was one of Baekhyun’s names. They spoke to each other – however, there was no exchange of words, but an exchange of thoughts, feelings and touches. They shared breaths, looks, touches –

\- and they shared the starry sky.

A magical sort of serene calm washed over them both, and then Baekhyun moved onto his hunches, walking over to Chanyeol to face him. He could see the stars reflected in those huge brown eyes. He could count every freckle on Chanyeol’s face. He took the gift. It was a painting. It was the first painting of love. It was called Yellow – a very artistic piece. There was red, silver blue and yellow – an aesthetic piece. Petals of sunflower were dried and stuck upon that painting. There was a red rose and olive thorns. There was the sky at the bottom – a red sky.

Baekhyun still thought about that painting. It shifted something inside him.

He leaned closer to the taller, ignoring the itch that asked him to stop. Then, soft petal-like lips were on his, and they were moulding their mouths to the kiss. The first kiss…it wasn’t  _ fire.  _ No, it was soft. It was silky, like the silk curtains in Chanyeol’s room. It was smooth like Baekhyun’s draw. It was graceful – like the arc Baekhyun’s bow made. It was silently passionate, like every one of Chanyeol’s paintings. It was shy, like their first time. It was yellow. It was red. It was blue. It was not fiery, not like water, not like any element – but rather like a new element all together.

This element was love.

That was Baekhyun’s sixth gift to Chanyeol.

Chanyeol stared at the darkening sky solemnly. The sky looked as if it was milk in which a dark piece of charcoal had been dumped. The streaks of black cried out slowly, mixing out in the starry night. That’s how Chanyeol saw it.

Then, his phone rang. It was Baekhyun’s mother.

With wide eyes, and the sudden appearance of an ugly feeling – as if he had drunk the sky milk with the charcoal – he picked the call up, bracing himself.

_ “Park Chanyeol! What did you do to my son?”  _ The first knife was thrown, and it landed right, slicing his skin smoothly.

He hardened his jaw, “Hello to you too, Mrs. Byun.”

_ “Is Baekhyun with you?”  _ The accusing tone of her voice sparked something inside him – something that shouldn’t be existing.

“No, he’s not with me,” He said, “Last time I checked you took him away from me.”

_ “I did? Please, Chanyeol, don’t play the fool. You didn’t stop me. He didn’t stop me either,”  _ She laughed mockingly,  _ “I don’t understand what you did to him. Did you torture him? Did you make him believe that you were in love with him?” _

His grip on the wheel tightened, “I  _ am  _ in love with him. I wish you were too.” The second knife was thrown – however, for the first time, Chanyeol was the wielder. He felt fury crawl in his veins, felt pain numb his senses, felt anger rage around his human shell…threatening to break out.

_ “…You’ve become snarkier, Park.” _

“All thanks to you, isn’t it?” He laughed, empty, “You should take the credit, since your son isn’t willing to give you any credit for anything that he is…or will become.”

What was he saying? He didn’t…mean it.  _ Or did he? _

_ “Let’s stay in our limits, alright?”  _ Her voice might have sounded worried, and that sniff of worry only fuelled his anger more, a dragon lashing its green ugly tail in his heart, spewing fire.

“And who sets these limits?” He shouted,  _ “You?” _

_ “Park-” _

“Park fucking  _ what _ ?” He screamed, the fury in him screamed, “Do you have regrets now? Now that Baekhyun doesn’t need you, you want him back? Just when things were okay, you had to ruin them again, didn’t you? You already ruined me! You ruined your son!” He had no right to speak like this and he knew that.  _ And yet, it felt so good.  _ Here he was – drinking poison and yet loving the taste.

_ Why was he so thirsty? _

“I didn’t ruin my son!” She shouted, “I didn’t ruin you either, Park! I was just showing you the reality. You have no right to stamp me as a…bad person, just because I was the only one who tried to make you break out of your shell!”

“Break out of my shell?” He laughed. He was crying, “And who the fuck are you to decide what I need? You’re fucking nobody! Just an evil bitch who ruined  _ everything! _ ”

Suddenly, Chanyeol could imagine Baekhyun next to him, holding his arm, telling him that it was enough. He was at the borderline. The limit.

And what did he do?

He did what an idiot would do – he crossed it.

“Park…listen. You  _ needed  _ that push! You wouldn’t have made it anywhere in the art world without me…and you know that. You kept dreaming. I couldn’t let that happen, and as for Baekhyun? I’m not responsible for the bad decisions he made, neither are you. Just let him be! Leave him up to me!” She sounded desperate, “You can’t – you can’t handle him right now. You’ll both end up getting hurt – maybe, in the future. But not now. So…please,  _ please,  _ stop for your sake…and for his.”

Chanyeol didn’t know what he was fighting for at this point. Nothing made sense anymore. Baekhyun’s mom cared for him? Cared for Chanyeol? Was there remorse in her voice? He knew there was. There was a vision of Baekhyun next to him, telling him it was enough, telling him to patch things up and reach a compromise.

It was the right thing to do!

But when Chanyeol opened his mouth, swords and knives came out instead –

“You fucking bitch!”  _ You don’t curse parents like that,  _ “I’ve – I’ve had enough! You know what – Baekhyun, he’s _ ruined.  _ But I still want him! I’m ruined too. And you – you ruined all of us, you destroyed both of us, you ate us up, and now you’re here again. I hate you!” Stop. Stop. “You’re pathetic, playing politics with your family when you can’t even tell your fucking son that you have regrets. Is it easier talking to me? Are you sorry?”

_ “Park – Park Chanyeol!”  _ She was crying,  _ “You’re – right now, you’re destroying yourself,”  _ She sobbed,  _ “Just tell me where my son is…and I’m sorry.” _

Honesty dripped in her voice, followed by tears that he heard.

Baekhyun’s vision shouted and screamed –  _ Chanyeol, enough! _

The dragon inside him burst to life –

“Now, listen lady, I have no idea where your fucking son is, probably running away from you with the intention of never returning back. I’ll fully support him in that decision – believe me. You – you – I don’t even know why you’re still in the picture,” He laughed, and it hurt how much of an edge his voice had. If he was at the receiving end of this talk, he…he wouldn’t have been able to face it all. This…was pain and anger and fury speaking. This wasn’t him.

Apologize. Just apologize Chanyeol.

“And I don’t want your apology. I want your removal from my life – and probably from Baekhyun’s life too,” He stated, “I think that’s all.”

_ “Chanyeol…you don’t want to do this to yourself. I – I am sorry, but in my defence, I never thought I was doing anything wrong and I know you feel horrible – let me help you…just bring my son to me…” _

“Keep crying, maniac.” He cut the phone. 

He cut the phone.

The image of Baekhyun shattered into pieces. The eyes looked just like they had looked earlier – screaming with betrayal.

_ Little bird, I hurt you these days _

_ You’d said you’d take the brunt of my anger _

_ Yet you’re broken too _

_ So, I’ll try to piece up the sky once again _

_ And give you that perfect picture _

_ But if it falls once again _

_ …Then I’ll set you free _

The third beat was short. 

Baekhyun, at twelve years of age, stood high upon his feet. Gold medals lay on his chest for everyone to see, and an imaginary crown had been placed upon his head. People looked at the crown. Chanyeol looked at how heavy it was. 

They talked upon the terrace, watching the red sky. They weren’t alone, yet whenever Baekhyun relived the memory, the others faded into the background. It was them, the sky, the crown and Chanyeol’s paintbrush. 

Baekhyun took a look at his painting. It was a crown of green embedded into an artsy red and black background. It didn’t look that beautiful.

“What is that?” Baekhyun asked, his nose upturned. 

Chanyeol’s eyes flickered, “It’s your crown.”

Immediately the archer stiffened as his chest and neck became heavy with laurels and medals and his head felt dizzy as the crown put all of its weight on him – materializing out of nowhere. Wear it well, his mother would tell him, otherwise it might leave. 

And honestly, he was already scared, so he wore it well. 

Baekhyun pouted at Chanyeol, “You should’ve drawn a prettier crown.”

The artist hummed but he didn’t make any changes. 

At that age, Byun Baekhyun was a professional in three types of work – archery, aegyo and singing. They were an unethical mix but Baekhyun pulled it off well. 

“Chanyeol-ah!” He held the arm of the artist, “Pay attention to me.”

The artist gave him a small smile, “Look at the red. It’s pretty, right?”

It wasn’t exactly ‘pretty’ but it was beautiful and artistic. 

“Yeah…”

“That’s because you’re pretty, but your crown…” Chanyeol smiled sadly, “It’s way too heavy. It turns you into a different person, sometimes, you know? When you wear it, I feel like I don’t know you.” 

Baekhyun fell silent. He was thinking. He knew the taller was right. Somehow, he was programmed to switch into his archery form whenever he stood in front of the target. He understood Chanyeol – on some days, even he felt like he didn’t know himself. He would stand in front of the mirror, naked and wonder who he was. 

“It’s my crown?” His voice was low, “The archery ‘me’ – it’s the crown?”

Chanyeol nodded, “It’s your ugly feelings – the destructive ones I tell you to forget,” At that age, there were three things Chanyeol had mastered: art, low self-esteem and frankness. It was an unethical mix, but he couldn’t help it, “Baekhyun, you get angry too fast,” He looked sad, “And you get sad and jealous when you lose, and you feel distant and I – I don’t like that.”

Walls built their way up again, “That’s your preference but it is who I am.” Baekhyun’s crown came into being. 

Chanyeol just gave him a smile – a genuine one, “No. That’s your crown. That’s the persona you have to maintain to keep that crown on your head. But you’re someone else. I think…the weight of this crown is too much,” He added another streak of olive green in the painting, “It’s too heavy.”

Baekhyun didn’t even know why but his eyes filled up with tears. So there was one person that had noticed.  _ It’s too heavy. It’s so heavy that he could feel the green, ugly, hot coils of the crown wrapping around his neck and choking him alive and hurting his shoulders – _

“It’s not that heavy,” He smiled, as he broke inside. The crown was heavy. 

Chanyeol sighed and added a streak of black to the crown. He understood, “I…hope one day, you could take it off for a while.”

_ I want to.  _

His phone rang. Jongdae handed it to him and the archer froze as he saw the contact. He picked the call up –

_ “Baekhyun,”  _ The gruff, heavy,  _ broken  _ voice said the word heavily, tasting it on his tongue, and drinking in the relief of the feeling.

“Chanyeol,” It rolled off so easily, so nicely.

_ “I need to meet you. The terrace. Please come.” _

“Okay.”

As Jongdae drove on, Baekhyun prepared his heart, his mind and his soul. He recollected the final memories – the final beat –

The fourth beat. Baekhyun was thirteen. Chanyeol was twelve. Nights and days at the terrace were common now. They would sit and watch the sky, listen to songs, dance, paint and practice. Those times were the best memories Baekhyun had.

However, one day was extraordinary.

They sky was the color of ash, and they waited for the clouds to finally lose their control and rain. Thunder and lightning were present, and they had sneaked away to the terrace to watch the anger of the skies. However, upon arrival, they found that it was rather calm. The wind caged small bits and pieces of paper in its hold, swirling from place to place, when Chanyeol’s face lit up –

“I just remembered. I wrote a poem.” He unzipped his school bag and brought out a notebook – his Math notebook – and flicked to the last page. Baekhyun wished someone wrote a book consisting of the last pages of all Math notebooks. They were really…overwhelming.

“Read it out to me,” Baekhyun said. He sat reclined against the rails of the terrace, like a panther.

Chanyeol cleared his throat, “Don’t laugh okay.” Baekhyun laughed, and once he was done, the artist started –

_ Oi little bird, you’ve seen the skies blue, ash and yellow, _

_ And you’ve held the weight of those cages for so long, _

_ You won’t find the kind of love you want at home, lil’ bird _

_ Not today, not tomorrow, not ever, you’ll just get hurt _

_ So, let go of your fears and take a leap, and I’ll follow _

_ I’ll lead you, show you love, you will never feel hollow _

_ Just take a leap, little bird, fly away…to tomorrow. _

Baekhyun wished he could say that he didn’t understand then. But now, as he saw the buildings outside becoming more and more familiar, he wished that he had taken the leap that day, that he had opened his heart to Chanyeol and left the cage – left his house. He did leave his house – but later, and with the wrong person.

The air was still as Bekhyun stepped out.

“I…have to meet Chanyeol,” He said, “You can leave.”

Jongdae was hesitant but he drove away. As the roar of the engine faded in the background, Baekhyun was left alone to stare at the building looming overhead. Panic gripped him.  _ What if he was wrong about Chanyeol after all?  _ He went up to the terrace. His steps were slow as memories of the past raged around in his head. The terrace door was open, and a cool breeze made him shiver. He wiped away the sweat on his brow and entered the familiar home.

A tall humanoid figure lay resting against the rail of the terrace, watching the city lights. Baekhyun cleared his throat and the taller looked at him, shifting his fringe out of his eyes.

_ “Baekhyun,”  _ His voice warmed Baekhyun up, “Hey.”

There was an expanse of tension between them, of flickering feelings, of electrifying thoughts, of a deep past. Baekhyun crossed the distance.

“Hey,” He rested right next to the taller, choosing to stare at the roads below. It was getting late, so it was relatively quieter. There were only a few horns and some lights around, and there was a cool breeze wafting all around them, and there was the moon. Orion probably stared down at them.

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol’s voice was a glass shard thrown in the calm of a lake, “I messed up. I’m way too…afraid.”

Baekhyun took in a deep breath, “Why? Why are you afraid?”

There was a silence and Chanyeol’s voice dropped, “I…I don’t know. I’ve always been afraid Baekhyun.”

“Why?”

It was unanswered, so they dropped the topic. Baekhyun slid down to the floor – standing up for too long was tiring – and Chanyeol followed suit.

“Do you remember when we kissed here?” Baekhyun asked, “I was the happiest then. I was the happiest when I was thirteen and in love with you. People might laugh because ‘hey, we were only thirteen’ but even Juliet was thirteen and everybody listened to her love story.” There was a bitter taste in his mouth.

“It’s because she died,” Chanyeol said quietly. Baekhyun was about to say ‘well, I almost died too’ but then he stopped because…it wasn’t a thing to just throw around. If it were Baekhyun’s mother, she would have boasted, ‘Well, my son worked so hard and under such intense situations that he once thought of giving up…but he didn’t.’ Because that was the kind of person she was…and Baekhyun couldn’t help but think if his mother actually cared for him…or cared for the  _ worth  _ he could add to her name.

He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to hear it.

“Baekhyun.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you…run away that time?” Chanyeol asked, turning to face him, “You loved me – I told myself for years that you didn’t, that you were a jerk, yet I know you did and still…you ran away from me, and you told everything to your parents… _ why _ ?”

Why? Why did he do that?

He didn’t know how to put it into words, yet he could try to explain the feeling. It’s a bitter yellow that surrounded him whenever his tears were converted into smiles. Whenever he felt light and happy, the crown materialized, and he went back to his throne, where he sat alone.

Why? Why did he do that?

Why did he ruin his own happiness? The same bitter feeling surrounded him and held him in its clutch so many years ago, and that feeling stuck around even when he started dating Chanyeol – a concoction of worry, anxiety, pain, ‘I don’t deserve this,’ ‘What am I doing?’, ‘This won’t last’, ‘I should…practice harder’. Every freaking time that…  _ feeling  _ followed him around.

Why did he do that? Simply because it felt nice and comfortable to sink into the self-destruction of his happiness. That was how it ought to be. Tears welled up in his eyes and he finally spoke –

“It’s – it’s because I’m broken Chanyeol,” He looked up, “And broken things…stick to broken things, and I stuck to my broken home.”

He thought Chanyeol wouldn’t reply to that, but the artist did, with unknown anger and force, “No, you’re wrong!”

Baekhyun blinked, “…”

“Baekhyun, if that were true you would have stuck to  _ me. I  _ am broken too and you know why we’re broken?”

He didn’t but Chanyeol didn’t stop.

“It’s because of the people who were around you! Your family, your early environment. Byun Baekhyun, as long as I can remember, I’ve been in love with you and so everything around you affected me. It’s your family that put that wretched crown up on your head – and that – that always… _ always  _ causes you pain. Just – just throw it away!”

What was he saying?

The truth.

But Baekhyun didn’t want to believe him.

“You don’t know anything!” Baekhyun shouted back, “It’s not like that-”

“It  _ is  _ like that. You have this thing instilled in you that if you don’t win, you’re a loser. You…you measure your worth way too much. Are you afraid that if you lost a few competitions, you would be thrown away? You’re definitely afraid of being left alone and stranded, right? Is that not why you cling to archery? Because you think if you win, you will be accepted and they’ll see your worth, right?” Chanyeol’s eyes were sparkling. His face was red under the moonlight. His voice was scratched, and Baekhyun realized at once that this was the anger and hatred that Chanyeol had harbored in his heart, hidden away from sight under his black angry paintings and only now, did this anger spill out –

Everything Chanyeol said was true. And it hurt. And it burned. And it pained. And it angered. And it frustrated.

And it wasn’t good.

Chanyeol was a mirror to Baekhyun’s soul – he spoke everything Baekhyun knew but didn’t act upon, and yet Baekhyun looked away from this mirror. No, the image that he had built up wouldn’t be shattered now. If it did, then he’d be left with no ground to stand upon.

“Well, let me tell you Byun Baekhyun, any sane person could see your worth in two seconds. I saw it in less than two seconds. I see it every time you shoot, but I also see it when you smile, when you laugh, when you wake up, when you…when you breathe,” His voice quietened down, until it was overwhelming, too much, “You’re worth it…when you’re breathing. Just your being alive is more than enough for me.”

Baekhyun was crying. The bitter taste spread over him once again. He begged himself to finally stop this – this crazy cycle of events. He knew what was good for him, what was not, and yet…he was stupid. He was weak.

“And if I – if I throw the crown away, what…what will I  _ even be _ ?” His voice broke painfully. The shingles on the terrace shifted a little as the heavy wind blew by.

Chanyeol stepped closer, held his face, and searched his eyes.  _ What are you searching for? There’s nothing in there!  _ He wanted to shout. He had spent nineteen years of his life, wearing that crown. Without it…what was he?

“You will be  _ you,  _ Baekhyun. You will…be who you truly are,” His words were whispered and yet, they hit him stronger than the wind.

“And who’s that?” A whisper, a small question, a small candle in the dark. His hands were on the crown, he could take it off. He could…finally…take it off, but he had to know first. Who will be he without the crown?

“You’ll know when you take the crown off, Baekhyun,” And then Park Chanyeol stopped, looking at him, waiting for him to finally  _ stop  _ this madness and embrace himself, to leave the bitter memories behind, to stop believing in a home that could bring him no happiness, to stop running from the yellow and instead become the yellow.

To allow himself to be himself.

_ Take the crown off, Baekhyun. _

The wind raged around them. Orion raged in the sky. The moon shone upon them. Chanyeol’s breath reached his cheeks.

_ Take the crown off, Baekhyun. _

It’s too heavy.

_ Just take a leap, little bird, fly away…to tomorrow. _

Seconds ticked by. Baekhyun stood frozen. He was in a state where he could finally…reflect, understand. He could take the crown –

His phone rang. Chanyeol sighed and the sound echoed in some ways – a deep great sigh, as if he was mourning the death of the world. Baekhyun excused himself and he picked the call up – it was Jongdae.

_ “Baekhyun? I just reached home…and Baek, your mom is crying, heck no, she’s sobbing. Everyone’s just sitting there, watching her cry.” _

No… “Why, what happened? Is it because I left?”

_ “That, plus, it’s…Chanyeol.”  _ Baekhyun eyed the taller,  _ “He said some…. very rude things to your mom. Called her a ‘fucking bitch’ ‘evil bitch’ ‘nobody’ ‘pathetic’ and a ‘maniac.’ He told her that she ruined all of them, destroyed…you and she kept crying just to bring you back home, saying that she didn’t know, and that she had regrets, and he cursed her out and told her that he wanted her removal from his life,”  _ Jongdae sighed,  _ “That’s the tea. I think you should come back.” _

Baekhyun cut the call. He was confused. He didn’t know what to do, whom to trust and where to go.

But well, he had to start somewhere. Fact-checks.

“Chanyeol,” He sighed, feeling the weight of the world upon his shoulders, “Did you, perhaps, talk to my mom before coming here?”

The artist stiffened. Baekhyun smiled – a pained, bitter, cruel smile – he knew the answer. He knew the facts.

He shook his head, “Listen – I…I can’t do this.”

Time stopped.

Chanyeol was disgruntled, “What do you mean?”

“ _ This!”  _ He pointed to the space between them, “You, me, us –  _ this _ !”

The moonlight seemed to have broken away from them. It was painful. His heart was crying out, but his mind was crying out too. Where to go? Whom to trust? Who was he?

Chanyeol didn’t say anything. He moved closer, “You know – when I told her those things, I felt horrible. I felt like you were a vision next to me, begging me to stop, telling me that this isn’t who I am,” Chanyeol’s face looked like stone, and the shadows underneath his features seemed to grow, “But now, I know,” His voice was grim, “This…is me. For so long, I’ve been in love with you – it’s almost a part of my identity by now – but that person who told her those things, it was me. For the first time, I didn’t listen to you or listen to my parents or  _ your  _ parents, and Byun Baekhyun, it felt fucking good.”

Baekhyun couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak.

“I have regrets Baekhyun – one of them is letting people dictate who I am, and other regrets are all related to not fighting hard enough for you. But now, I promised two things. One, that I won’t give in to my parents or your parents and the world, and stand up for what I believe in – cause simply, it hurts me when I don’t stand up for myself – and two, I promised that I’d fight hard for you,” He paused, “But you’ve already given up.”

It stung, it hurt, it  _ pained  _ him like a beast. Truth was a doze harder than anything else.

“But for the last time, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol said, “Make quick decisions. Make right decisions. Make decisions that won’t hurt you –  _ just forget everything else and open your mind and think!  _ Think about your baby, your life, your career, yourself…and your happiness. Do the thing that feels right Baek, please don’t lie to yourself anymore. You have to…you have to overcome this barrier…by yourself. You have to make the last call.”

_ Stop talking,  _ Baekhyun wanted to tell him,  _ Otherwise I’ll go crazy. _

It was intense. A dead man in an intense world. Greys thrown in a mixture of colour.

Park Chanyeol was a phoenix. He rose up from the ashes.  _ It’s your turn now. _

_ You have to overcome this barrier by yourself. _

_ You have to make the last call. _

_ Take off the crown, Baekhyun. _

_ Just take a leap, little bird, fly away…to tomorrow. _

The paintings Chanyeol had drawn of him – yellow, the crown, Red, the eagle, the archer, the bow, the arrow – everything!

And yet…the bitter feeling spread through him. Something dulled down in him, as if a fire that was stomped out. Heechul came to life – he’d held onto that hand and he’d got hurt. He’d held onto his parent’s and he’d been thrown away. He’d held onto his brother and he’d been manipulated. He’d held onto himself…but he –  _ he needed time. _

He was scared. He was tired.  _ I need time, Chanyeol-ah.  _ He was dying to tell Chanyeol that he just needed time to be sure; slow, baby steps, one stone at a time.

_ I need time, Chanyeol-ah. _

_ I’ll need more time, Chanyeol-ah. _

_ I think I’m sure, but I'd like to have more time, Chanyeol-ah. _

But what did he say?

He sobbed out, “I can’t fucking do this!”

Silence.

“I – you can’t just decide one moment that you’re weak and the next moment not, you can’t force me to make decisions! You insulted my mother, insulted my family, heck, you didn’t even treat me like a human when you first met me!”  _ It wasn’t your fault. I’m being childish. But help me, I’m scared,  _ “I’m not – I’m not… _ not an entertainment. _ ”

That’s what he had been treated as for his whole life.

“I’m done, Park Chanyeol. I can’t do this. This isn’t mathematics – two broken people don’t make one fixed relationship. This – we were doomed from the beginning, when I told my parents you were gay. And I haven’t changed. I don’t think I can’t. So, just…let me go.”

Baekhyun looked up. Chanyeol was crying. His face was twisted up, and his eyes were red. It hurt – it broke him.

The artist tried for the last time, “Little…bird.”

Baekhyun braced himself and he spoke, “I’m…not your little bird. And that’s…that. Move on from me. Thank you.”

_ Thank you. _

Surprisingly, he wasn’t the one who left. It was Chanyeol. He left.

_ The perfect sky fell, little bird _

_ And you set yourself free _

_ Into another cage _

  
  


Chanyeol decided he couldn’t be trusted to stay alone that night. Being alone meant you had time to think…and he had thought enough.  _ If only Baekhyun had thought… _ So, he ended up on the door of an old friend – a very old friend.

The door opened after the third ring, and the handsome man peeked out –

“Hey, who are you and what do you want from me in the middle of the night?” The man stepped out more to stare at Chanyeol and his eyes widened –

“Wait, _Park_ _Chanyeol?_ Oh god, you’re really alive!” Always so dramatic, this little piece of shit.

Chanyeol rolled his eyes and kicked the door lightly, “Let me in, Sehun.”

Baekhyun was really running out of places to go. His mansion? Crossed out. Chanyeol’s home? Crossed out. His old house? Crossed out. Jaksal Chicken? Crossed out. Crying at Han river? He seriously would’ve if he wasn’t pregnant.

But then he remembered a promise he’d made to someone  _ \- I’ll help you gather your stuff, on the condition that you’d visit me at least once a week.  _ That promise had obviously not been fulfilled but Baekhyun didn’t blame himself once. He knew how busy and tiring his life had become. Besides, he saw the doe-eyed man everyday at practice.

He rung the doorbell, quickly thinking about what he’d tell the guy – some well-formulated lie, some excuse –

The door opened and a shocked Kyungsoo peeked out, “Baekhyun? What are you doing here so late?”

Baekhyun smiled, regardless of himself, “Oh, hi – uh, Chanyeol and I broke up, and I kicked myself out of my house. Can I stay with you?”

_ A well-formulated lie, an excuse ­ _ ­– okay, boomer, Byun Baekhyun.

That night as Baekhyun lay on the bed –  _ you’re pregnant, Byun, and now that I know that, I won’t allow you to sleep on the floor –  _ he realized that World Archery Championship was…just next week. For the first time, Korea was the host country. Baekhyun was participating in several events – Mixed and Men’s Team, but the most important one was Men’s Individual and, because of his recently amazing performance in the Court, he was the one people wanted to see.

Although…that could change, considering now people knew he was pregnant and gay. But that was a journey farther away. First, he’d have to get through this night, and sleep knowing everything went wrong.

The fairy lights in Kyungsoo’s room were beautiful.

“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo asked, “Why’d you break up with him?”

Face yourself, Byun Baekhyun, “Because… _ it’s too heavy.  _ I’m scared and hurt and scared of being hurt. And he’s finally…finally healing and I’m stupid and I-” His voice cracked, “Kyungsoo, I just want to find myself. I want to be comfortable in my own skin, by my own.”

Kyungsoo hummed, “Chanyeol…he could help you in recovering. You know that, right?”

“I know, I know,” A deep breath. The conversation was easy because they couldn’t see each other in the dark, “It’s just…I want to try and see what I could be on my own, before becoming  _ that person. _ Does it – does it make sense?”

“Basically, you want to make sense of things on your own first.”

“Basically…yes, I want to…understand, and I want to… _ rise _ .”

“You want to rise?” Timid.

Baekhyun laughed, “Oh, Kyungsoo, I probably am not able to tell right from wrong right now, but believe me when I say this – I have a lust for rising up.”

The first morning alone started out with Chanyeol knocking on the door of Yixing’s studio. The door was opened a few minutes later and a very disgruntled Yixing walked out, frowning at the sunlight –

“What do you want so early, kid?”

Chanyeol raised his brush, “I want to paint.”

_ I want to paint without Byun Baekhyun and see what I am. _

“Good! Good! Keep it going! Faster!” The Coach shouted out from under the sun as the archers kept shooting. Even though all of them weren’t going to participate in the World Archery Competitions, all of them felt the pressure. The training was much harder now, and there wasn’t any room to slack off.

And Baekhyun didn’t feel like slacking off.

Kyungsoo kept him hydrated, and when his legs would start shaking, he would lead the expecting parent to a chair and give him mind games to solve in the meantime. The Coach was very impressed by Baekhyun’s dedication –

“Kid, you’re going to make it.” Baekhyun smiled, shifting closer to his Coach.

“I’d like to make it too, Coach,” He paused then, “Coach, do you happen to know…a good therapist?”

The Coach raised an eyebrow, but he looked relieved that Baekhyun was caring about his mental health, “In fact, I know just the correct person for you. Here, take his number.”

Yixing rounded Chanyeol as the artist drew every last detail to perfection. Sweat glided down his face, but he kept working hard. He had been drawing since the sun rose, and by now it was late afternoon.

“Is that – is that a phoenix, kid?” The curator was pleasantly surprised. He’d rounded up Chanyeol’s paintings to real-life inspired abstract colour spills, however, right now, he was looking in the face of a very real looking phoenix. The colours were still very vibrantly used but instead of the usual red, black and yellow that were now a brand detail of Chanyeol’s, he had brought the phoenix to life in the shades of blue, silver and grey.

Yixing grinned, “That would grace the walls of an art exhibition, kid, and I don’t ever curse, but it looks fucking awesome.”

Chanyeol smirked, dipping his thin brush into the white paint, “I have a name for this painting.”

“Wow, already? What is it?”

“Chanyeol.”

The nights were lonely, and fearful.

Both felt closer to themselves. ‘They would be fine’ – they thought. However, both knew that they would be happier if the other was next to them.

_ I need a little more time. _

_ I need to move on. _

It was scary, pulsing, dark and bright – such were their colours. 

“Chanyeol!” Yixing skipped into the studio, “I have news!”

The artist sat back on his hunches and wiped his sweat away –  _ ah, the hot summers are here –  _ and stared at the very excited curator.

“What is it?”

Yixing pointed to ‘CHANYEOL’ – the painting the artist was working upon, just adding a bit of white detailing – and said, “We’re rising, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol frowned before it started dawning upon him, “Wait, do you mean that-”

“Yes! The Art Gallery I talked about? The  _ very  _ prestiged one –  _ it’s taking a mini collection of yours for its newest show featuring about fifty beginner artists _ ! And you’re one of them!”

Chanyeol couldn’t believe this. Oh god. Surely, Yixing was kidding. Oh no. Oh fucking yes!

“And when is it…?”

“Next week, Park Chanyeol!” Yixing paused and stared at Chanyeol with ultimate happiness and excitement in his eyes, “We’re flying to the USA!”

Baekhyun stood silently in front of the closed shop. The Jaksal Chicken signboard fluttered in the warm wind. It just caused more loneliness in his heart and reminded him of how things were still wrong. Eomma was still not okay – that day damn Min Yee Hun hadn’t been able to tell him a lot as she had to leave for her classes. Other than that, he’d made it to newspaper headlines and there were major LGBTQ+ and Male Carriers Upliftment revolts going on, fighting for equality. Baekhyun should be proud but in reality, he was scared because he was very prone to criticism and hatred. That was why he avoided social media like the plague. He’d spent the recent days with Kyungsoo and practice non-stop. He’d also been avoiding his family. He didn’t need them.

_ He missed Chanyeol. _

He tried not to breakdown on the streets. Somebody might recognize him.

People might call him stupid and dumb to let go of a lover like that but that…that was the point, right? Chanyeol was so freaking awesome. He could paint, he could play instruments, he had over a thousand hobbies, he was handsome, he was kind and as of recent developments…he was strong and knew what he wanted –  _ unlike Baekhyun. _

Maybe that’s why his mother had always put the artist down – because he was way too strong of a human being. There were absolutely no flaws in him –  _ again, unlike Baekhyun. _

He deserved the world, no, deserved more than the world –  _ unlike Baekhyun.  _ Baekhyun, who had broken that soft heart so many times, Baekhyun who had hurt Chanyeol more times than any of his enemies, Baekhyun who had swung around like a pendulum, sometimes there and sometimes not, and Chanyeol had accepted him for everything. He hadn’t cared for the fact that Baekhyun had a baby, neither had he once blinked at his flaws…

And yet…

He could remember the words of his new therapist, Mr. Ah, smiling at him and saying quietly, “Don’t think of him as your guilty pleasure, Baekhyun. You yourself said that he deserves the world, so you should give him the world.”

_ “I probably won’t even be able to give him one fragment of the world, Mr. Ah,” He had said, “I’m not that great.” _

“And yet, isn’t it funny that even the smallest fragment that you give him will be the world for him?” Mr. Ah chuckled, “When he sees your worth in every one of your breath, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun smiled bitterly now.

He just wanted the best for Chanyeol. And he wanted the best for himself too.

Maybe, the skies would be kind for once.

He sighed and started walking away, back to practice. He had the qualifiers later that day, however he knew he would make it easily till the finals. There were only four days left until the big show; the finals and the Olympic Qualifiers – and he had to win this big show.  _ He wanted to. _

‘CHANYEOL’ was finished.

The artist breathed out tiredly and leaned back to look at the painting. He found himself smiling at the sight of the huge blue phoenix. Yixing whistled from the side –

“Well, out of the five paintings we’re taking, this one is an obvious yes,” Yixing said, “And I think to portray your best styles we should take Hands – that one really popped a nerve in me.”

Chanyeol nodded, “And three more.”

“One should be Orion and then the Moonlight Painting – of your sister,” Yixing smiled sadly, “And ‘Realization: I’m in Love.”

Chanyeol looked down, “Not Realization. It’s…I don’t think I’ll do more art like that. Besides, I bet there are already many paintings by the Han River.”

Yixing chuckled, “Yeah, sure. I’ll leave the last option to you. Which painting?”

The artist sighed, “I don’t really want to take this painting but…if we talk about my art style, it’s definitely one of the things that I can’t ignore…”

“Which painting?”

“Red.”

There were three full days left to the finals. Baekhyun would wake up tomorrow, and he’d go to sleep at night. The same pattern would repeat two times more…and then the next day he’d wake up, he’d stand on the finals line with a bow in his hand. There would be no Chanyeol, no Eomma, no parents – but he’d have to win. He shuffled around the bed and when he could take the daunting silence no more, he asked Kyungsoo to pass his phone.

“You should sleep, Baek,” The doe-eyed man yawned, “Eliminations are tomorrow.”

“I know, I just…” He opened Chrome and typed in what he wanted, and then it was there for him to see. He couldn’t help but smile a little.

Kyungsoo rose up and sat next to Baekhyun, “What are you looking at?”

Baekhyun shifted to give him space and both of them snuggled underneath the blanket, “It’s a painting.”

Kyungsoo stared at him for a while before smacking his head, “Oh goodness, Baek! Just call him. Wait, I’ll call him-”

Baekhyun managed to hold him back, “Please…don’t.”

The other guy just rolled his eyes, but he softened when he saw Baekhyun’s moist eyes. He brought the archer closer and patted his head, “There, there. Now don’t cry, okay?”

“I’m trying,” He smiled sadly and immediately a sob slipped past his lips, “It’s not working!”

Kyungsoo took the phone, “Baekhyun, no, don’t cry. Let’s talk about this painting. Do you know its name?”

“Yes,” Baekhyun smiled a little, “ _ Red.” _

_ The sun had risen. And the sun had set. _

_ Little bird, I am fine, _

_ I just hope you’re okay, too. _

__

Sehun jumped up from his spot on the bed, “Oh my god, Chanyeol. Look!”

The artist paid him little mind. He was watching some cute cat videos.

“It’s the list of the final competitors of World Archery Championship!” Now,  _ that  _ had Chanyeol’s attention. He scooted closer to Sehun and elbowed him away –

“Who’s there from Korea?” He took the phone and immediately started scanning the list as Sehun whined –

“Hey, it’s  _ my  _ phone!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Sehun rolled his eyes, “You’re rude.”

“Huh…Oh – here’s Korea!” Sehun shifted closer too as Chanyeol read, “And the participants for the Individual Male-” Chanyeol’s eyes moistened and he bit his lip, “It’s Byun Baekhyun.”

“Oh wow! Baekhyun is so awesome! Wait, I’ll call him – I thought he wouldn’t be allowed to play! And he actually passed the Qualifiers and Eliminations! I’m so proud-” Sehun rambled till no end while Chanyeol got up, pushed the door open and left the room.

_ Byun Baekhyun was playing in the finals for Korea. _

__

“Hey, Baekhyun, Baek, hey!” Kyungsoo walked over to him, “You know the website you showed me of Chanyeol?”

The archer stopped whatever he was doing and looked at Kyungsoo, “Yes?”

“It got updated.”

Baekhyun frowned, and moved closer, “Huh? Let me see.”

There was a notice from the artist himself –  _ I’m really thankful as I announce that my artwork has been selected for the – _

“Holy Shit!” Kyungsoo exclaimed, and looked at Baekhyun with wide eyes, “Baek, that’s a  _ really  _ popular gallery. Even  _ I  _ know of it.”

Baekhyun knew it too, “When is the exhibition?”

Kyungsoo leaned in to read, “Hmm…let me see…Oh.”

“What.”

“It’s a day after your final,” Kyungsoo said, “In the USA…”

He didn’t have to complete his sentence. Baekhyun got what he meant. He smiled bitterly –

“So there’s no chance he’s coming to the Championship. Not that I thought he’d be there…” The archer mumbled to himself before he continued shooting.

Kyungsoo sighed.  _ This just keeps on getting worse.  _

  
  


The clock struck three when Baekhyun finally couldn’t take it anymore. He watched the dingy, wooden clock and noted the time to himself. For some reason, it seemed important. Then, he grabbed his cell, skipped past a snoring Kyungsoo and made his way out into the balcony. Immediately, the night air stuck to his skin, plastering his thin white shirt to his humid, hot skin. With trembling fingers, he opened the contact and pressed call.

Then, as the echoes of the rings were passed around by the teasing wind, Baekhyun waited. He looked up and noted the black expanse overhead, void of any stars. He waited, eyeing the icy, iron railing, gleaming in shades of silver. He waited, and he heard his own soft, puffy breath intently against the hum of the wind. He waited, and as quickly as the wait had started, it was over –

_ “Baekhyun?”  _ The voice was deep and groggy and was followed by a drowsy yawn. In the canvass of the black sky, Baekhyun painted an image of a messy-haired Chanyeol blinking at his lit-up phone screen, struggling against all the blankets he was buried under.

“Yes…” His voice carried out, reaching out to Chanyeol in endless waves before it broke, “ _ Y-yes.” _

There was shuffling on the other side. He could imagine Chanyeol sitting up,  _ “Are you – are you okay?” _

_ “N-no…”  _ He smiled as he sniffed. This – ah – this felt comforting. Even though he was standing out in the cold, he felt warmed up,  _ “I – Chanyeol!”  _ Just saying the name felt good. It was as if he was tasting chocolate, flicking it from one side of his tongue to another, and letting it melt deliciously in his mouth.

_ “Baekhyun,”  _ There was a slight chuckle and a warm sigh. Baekhyun put the phone closer to his ear and closed his eyes. He could hear the soft, warm breaths. He could see it on the night sky. He could feel it.

Time clicked away on the wooden clock, but they stayed that way, blocks apart, under the same night sky, hearing and sharing breaths. And even that was enough.

Baekhyun started, “The competition is tomorrow,” He breathed out, and then he gulped, “It’s tomorrow. I – I can’t.” But he had to.

There was a huff on the other side,  _ “You can.” _

“I don’t feel like it!” He begged, tried to explain. Tears pooled in his eyes, and his gut felt weak.

_ “Why not?” _

“Because you won’t be there,” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d spoken. But he meant it. He couldn’t take it back. He didn’t want to either.

There was a frustrated sigh. He could see Chanyeol ruffling his hair, tugging at the roots slightly,  _ “You’re being unfair!” _

He smiled, and sniffed, “I’m sorry.”

_ “No, you can’t do this to me!”  _ Chanyeol whined and sobbed,  _ “You were the one that said that you can’t do this anymore. I’ve set you free. I’ve done everything I can!” _

“I’m sorry.”

_ “I’ve even walked forward…without you,”  _ His voice dropped,  _ “What – what do you want now?” _

There was silence –  _ no, silence implied stillness.  _ There weren’t any verbal words thrown from the cell, and yet…and yet, it was the most they had spoken. You’d say they were on a phone call - non-verbal communication is not logically possible - and you’d be right. But as we know it, love defies all logic.

If silence was paint, it would have been white. White drops dripping on the canvass, seemingly plain, but then you’d come to know that it was made up of seven colours, all intermingled together.

And colours, oh how beautiful they were!

Baekhyun stared at the building in front of him – a pale grey, a modern white, the grass on the ground was green, and yellow, the sky was blue, dark, green and the moon was pale, like rotten cheese and the air was –

_ “I miss your red, Baekhyun-ah,”  _ Through blurry eyes, he smiled wider. He was so in love, and love made people stupid, made them dumb. He was still dumb. He continued crying silently, feeling his chest squeeze painfully as hot, fresh tears lined his cheeks, leaving the skin raw.

_ “Are you crying?”  _ Panic. Hot searing panic like the tears on his cheeks,  _ “Baek? Hey, Baek!” _

“I’m here, idiot,” He chuckled, although it sounded more like a sob, “Ah, I’m so stupid.”

_ “Is that why you’re crying?”  _ He could  _ hear  _ the smile. He painted it on the sky. A warm face, a warm stretch of thick, slightly parched lips, swollen eyes and tornado hair,  _ “If you cried every time you were stupid, you would have had a river of your own.” _

He sniffed, “I’ll call that river ‘Chanyeol’s love.’”

_ “Why?” _

“So, I can go and drown in that.”

_ “…” _

Baekhyun panicked, “I’m sorry! Was that way too lame?”

_ “I’m physically hurt, Baek. I now understand why you’re crying. If my pick-up lines were as bad as yours, I would cry too.” _

“I’m sorry…”

_ “Why do I feel like I hurt a baby? Ah – what’s this immense guilt.” _

Baekhyun pouted. He knew Chanyeol was painting his image too on his white curtains, “You did…You hurt me.”

_ “You aren’t a baby, Baek. You  _ have  _ a baby.” _

The pout intensified. He couldn’t even remember when he’d felt like this last – as if all the stars had aligned, and he was finally himself. His childhood, his adulthood, all the mistakes, all the colours – they all merged together, and in the end they formed one big canvass – a white canvass where he could repaint himself – where he was himself –

“I  _ am  _ a baby!”  _ Ah, don’t worry, that’s not what his ‘newly repainted’ self would be,  _ “I’m your baby…” He started out bold, but it fell apart in the end. Tears that had frozen slid down his cheeks again, “I’m sorry.”

_ “What…what are you sorry for?”  _ Déjà vu. The last time Chanyeol was afraid, and this time he was sorry. Are they moving forward or are they stuck there?

“I’m just sorry, Chanyeol…If we start right now, then I’d miss my competition tomorrow,” He chuckled, “I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

A short hum. Baekhyun felt an itch. He had to answer to this –

“Most of all…I’m sorry that I –  _ I didn’t take your hand, _ ” His chest squeezed again, “And then every fucking time you’d finally try and leave, I’d hold you back. It’s a pattern I keep imposing over you.”

This time there was not even a hum.

He couldn’t stop crying, “You know, I found a new therapist. I’ve been understanding the major flaw in myself – and you know what’s that?”

_ “I know, Baekhyun-ah.”  _ A sad smile on the sky above,  _ “I know.” _

“I can’t…let go!” Baekhyun sobbed, “I’m stupid as fuck for still holding onto my family! When I got pregnant, I should have let go of archery – but I  _ can’t!  _ And if I – if I really loved you, I should’ve let you go…but I can’t,” His heart had settled in the lowest pit, from where it was impossible to climb out, “I couldn’t even let go of myself in the end. I’m…stuck.”

The words stuck around. Soon, they were painted in the sky, in the air, in the ground and Baekhyun spoke once again, “This is why I keep telling myself I’m wrong – or as you said,  _ unfair –  _ I wake you up in the night just to cry about my flaws. I don’t give you any signal, don’t ask a thing about you, I – I am so incapable of loving.” And then he sobbed – the loudest one yet. He covered his mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but Chanyeol heard it anyway.

_ “Can I be honest?” _

His hand was in his mouth, shining with saliva, in an attempt to muffle his crying, and tears and snot dripped down his face. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded, and then he whined lowly as he realized Chanyeol couldn’t see him, but the artist felt him, and he spoke –

_ “Let me state out the things as they are, Baekhyun. One, you should let go of your parents. Two, you’ve already come so far in archery, you should continue. Three, nobody should ever let go of themselves, and I’ve learnt that. Four, you woke me up because you needed comfort. Five, you have given me plenty of signals. Six, I know you know I’m better than you, and thus there’s no need to ask how I’m doing. Seven, you aren’t incapable of loving. And eight-”  _ Chanyeol paused and it seemed like he’d tear his hair out,  _ “Damn, Baek, please stop crying. It’s hurting me too!” _

“I’m...sorry.”

_ “And stop apologizing for god’s sake!” _

“Sorry…oh, wait I’m sorry – I –  _ I’m sorry!” _

He could see Chanyeol leaning back and smiling at his phone, breathing deeply,  _ “Go to sleep.” _

“You aren’t coming tomorrow?”

Hesitation,  _ “We shouldn’t do this. I can’t come tomorrow. There’s no reason for me too.” _

“But I want you to be there!” He bit his lip, trying hard to suppress another sob, “Isn’t that reason enough?”

There was a grit on the other side, and Baekhyun’s eyes widened as the painting of Chanyeol on the night sky shattered. He couldn’t imagine Chanyeol being frustrated at him. He should’ve had.

_ “I don’t want to be there,”  _ Chanyeol said quietly. Baekhyun didn’t like the timbre of his voice,  _ “You can’t tell me I’m unfair, for I gave you chances. Now, I’m finally so close to achieving my dream, Baek. It’s not my fault…that you aren’t in that dream with me.” _

Oh.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in, trying to finally take it in and clean the slate. It won’t hurt Baek, face it. It won’t hurt that much. But as he looked at the sky, devoid of stars or any picture, the emptiness settled in his heart and nuzzled him whole.

Oh.

His body moved on autopilot. Tears streaming, chest paining, everything aching – but he kept looking up. Face it, he told himself, let the pain sink in, let it embrace you. He’d accept it. He’d accept his biggest defeat, and he’d move on. He’d miss the warmth, and he’d cry on bad nights – nights like this…but he’d stand up every day. He’d be fine. He’d be fine.

But until then –  _ a heart-breaking sob was leached harshly out of his throat.  _ Why? Why… _ ugh,  _ it hurt so much,  _ why?  _ It felt so good to cry. It helped in massaging the pain in. He’d been so distracted by small things that were never good for him, that he’d let go of the bigger picture. How long – after all, how long – can a person stick to you when all you’ve ever done is give him pain, give him hurt? How bad had Chanyeol felt – being tossed around, being played with? If Baekhyun was in a good mood, it was okay, otherwise he’d spit fire at the taller.

How many times had he swung around from one side to another, like a pendulum? It was his fault. And how dare he go back to Chanyeol when everybody he’d played with was gone? He was hurt… _ he was a bitch, but the problem was that he had also been the victim. _

Life…was complicated.

When he came back to reality, Chanyeol was repeatedly calling his name out, softly. It made Baekhyun smile for a fraction of a second. How nice could a man be that even after being hurt continuously he cared to check upon his attacker?

“Yes,” Baekhyun sobbed and he smiled, “Yes, yes, yes.”

In his mind, he imagined those words to be the answer to a deep voice saying, ‘Do you love me?’

“Yes!” Baekhyun said again when Chanyeol asked something. He didn’t hear it exactly, since his ears were still droning in the sound of rejection.

However, the droning was stopped suddenly when Chanyeol said,  _ “Sleep, Baekhyun.” _

He realized the phone call would be cut. He wanted to sob loudly and scream, ‘No! Please!’ because even the fear of the call being cut induced such pain in his heart, a grip of loneliness. He felt like the hands of Chanyeol’s painting were around him.

But all he did was smile, and say, “Yes.”

There was silence on the other side. Baekhyun could no longer imagine Chanyeol. The sky was only the sky – a lonely sky. He didn’t know that the taller was trying to keep it together as well. Baekhyun was hurt, he knew that. The archer was blind to his own feelings for Chanyeol – which were probably even deeper than Chanyeol’s and that’s why – that was why he kept running away.

Chanyeol still wasn’t completely over Baekhyun, and it hurt him to hear the enforced smile on his face and the constant, ‘Yes!’ – it hurt, and yet, he had to choose this for himself.

If Baekhyun kept swinging around like a pendulum, he kept going back too. But now, he’d end this cycle once…and for all.

Challenge number one: Cut the call and leave the puppy alone on the other side.

He was already failing.

_ “Baekhyun…” _

“Yes?”

Chanyeol gulped. He felt evil,  _ “Can you – can you cut the call?” _

“Y-yes!” He still kept the bubbly façade up.

Chanyeol closed his eyes and he waited.

Long moments passed and nothing happened when Chanyeol repeated his request. The response broke him –

_ “I’m – I’m…I’m trying, Chanyeol!”  _ A very painful sob. He winced, “ _ I swear I’ve been hovering my finger around this end call button but I – I can’t…I can’t…”  _ The magnitude of pain in his voice increased as every moment went by and in the end, the artist couldn’t take it anymore. In a hast movement, he clicked the red button and switched his phone off, throwing it away. He was breathing quickly. It hurt. For many moments, he kept watching a small patch of moonlight that entered through his window as Baekhyun’s voice haunted his head.

Paralyzed, he stared at the patch of moonlight. 

  
  


The building was packed with a silent, killer, competitive aura. Baekhyun strode through the thick tension, the on-lying hard work, the few tears and a whole lot of stress. His eyes were sharp, and his steps were calculated. With his head held high, he bowed down to some of his competitors, and thanked a few of his fans who’d come. The tiled floor was smacked repeatedly by several hurried footsteps.

Baekhyun went over and sat on a couch in the hallway, quite near the glass door. The hallway was dark, and yet it was slightly illuminated by the pale daylight that entered through the doors. He pulled on his straps, perfecting them for the last time. He made sure his chest straps weren’t too constricting and that no straps directly passed over his baby.

The grounds were present in the back of the building. Baekhyun was the farthest from the grounds, but he could hear the deafening cheers of the crowd. There was still time left before the match officially commenced but that did not deter the fanatical crowd in the slightest. Archery…was a big thing in Korea – almost worshipped to an idol level – and fans of other countries were also motivated by Korea’s cheering.

All this cheering, there were so many events that had led to this moment. Baekhyun gulped, as the tension grew higher. The stakes were higher than ever. Every action of his accumulated to this one moment. A bead of sweat slid down. There were people who wanted to see him win – Coach Song, Kim Minseok, Doh Kyungsoo, both doctors (he’d recently found out that his psychiatrist and his doctor were both married. Who would have thought?), his team, his Eomma, Yee Hun, the nice lady who’d given him a chocolate cake for free in that café, Sehun, the Male Carrier Society, Korea…and, maybe even Chanyeol.

He breathed out.  _ He  _ wanted to see himself win.

There was a cone around him – a very heavy cone with the tiny hole present upon him. It accumulated all the pressure and it packed every beat of silence around him with that tension. Baekhyun’s limbs were shaking slightly.

Just then, the lighting in the room changed, and someone stepped in through the doors, “Baekhyun.”

Something snapped in him, and he looked up quickly at the call of the familiar voice, “Mom?” The lady smiled as she moved into the dark hallway. For the first time, the smile on her face was…honest. His brother and father filed in next to her.

Nobody said anything. Baekhyun shrugged and continued fixing his leg straps.

“Baekhyun, hi,” His brother said lamely. For them, the silence must have felt daunting, but for Baekhyun, the pressure was appeased. These people – ah, the ones that kicked him out, hurt him, ruined him – they’d finally see what they’d missed. He smiled slightly. Chanyeol was right. It was time to let go.

Maybe, it was because he had been the most hurt he could’ve been last night, when Chanyeol cut the call on him and wouldn’t pick up, but now, letting go of his parents didn’t seem all that hard.

“Baekhyun…I pray that you win-” His mother started but she was cut off as Baekhyun stood. The shadows tilted, and he stood taller than all of them, shining, the Korean emblem on his chest glimmered brightly.

“I  _ will  _ win,” He assured, “However, it won’t be because of you guys. It will be all me.”

His father stiffened, “How can you say that-?”

Baekhyun gave him a lop-sided smile, “Like this – Mom, Dad and Baekbeom – I, officially, don’t give a fuck about you guys. And if I do – even a little bit – it’s because I’m nice and I’m kind, and you contributed nothing to that. And if you guys ever treat my softness as something laughable, then please know that you’re the corrupted ones, and I’m the one who’s thriving in life.”

Something twitched in his mother’s face, “You’re right, Baekhyun. I – I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you. I’ve been a bad parent-”

“Damn right,” He said, smiling at them, “And I heard your apology. Now you can feel good about yourself and go sit in the crowd.”

His brother’s face flickered, “We want you to forgive us, Baekhyun. We’re family.”

He raised a finger, “No, no, no. Wait stop. Sorry, I don’t give in to emotional manipulation these days,” He smiled sadly, “But like I said, I heard your apology. You can go.”

His mother stepped forward. Something tightened in his chest, but then Chanyeol’s voice echoed in his mind –  _ the last leap, little bird.  _ And he knew he could do this.

“I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me.”

“I can’t,” He stated outwardly, “I can’t. I won’t and I never will. I heard you, and that’s enough. I gave you a chance to speak, after all that you’ve done and that is…more than enough. We’re family by blood…and that’s where I draw the line,” He placed his hand on his stomach, “I have my own family…and this one won’t let me down.”

There was silence. And there was defeat.

“All the best, Baekhyun,” His brother said quietly, and he led his parents out of the small, confined building. Baekhyun allowed himself to sit back on the couch.  _ Make quick decisions. Make right decisions. Make decisions that won’t hurt you.  _ As the memory floated around, a smile was stretched across his face. He knew that this…this wouldn’t hurt. 

___

Chanyeol moved his suitcase around, from left to right, in between his legs. It was the only thing he was focused at. In the background, there were claps of shoes against the tiled floor, skidding on suitcase wheels, different conversations that mingled in one indistinct chatter, and the electric announcements of flights. He was staring, but he wasn’t looking. Dazed. Paralyzed.

“Hey, man,” There was an electric clap on his shoulder, and he jumped, coming face to face with Yixing, “Chanyeol, hi. You’re seriously taking the earliest flight ever?”

He smiled weakly, “Yeah.”

They looked at the cosmetics shop for a while. A teenage girl was pulling her mother towards it.

“Chanyeol,” Yixing said quietly, “You seriously won’t go?”

His jaw hardened, “No.”

“You still love him.”

“I know.”

“He loves you too.”

“…”

Yixing moved towards him, his kind eyes were glassy, “Are you that scared of getting hurt again? If that’s it, then you haven’t really bettered yourself. You know that, right?”

He eyed the tiled floor and followed the cracks of the tiles. There was dirt on the seventh tile.

Yixing sighed, “You can just take the flight with me. It’ll be more hectic, but you’ll get to watch him shoot,” The curator turned his head back, “The venue isn’t even that far away from here. You could go, support him, and catch the flight in the evening. Sounds good, right?”

He shut his eyes, “Yixing, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to go to the US, rest, travel, exhibit my art, meet new people – I don’t need him.”

“But you want him.”

Oh, how times have changed.

Yixing took his tablet out, and he started streaming the event, “Oh, look. It’s already begun.” The event had officially begun two days prior, and the Women Winners had already been decided. Not only that, today was the finals – the actual thing that mattered.

“Look, the Mixed Archery elimination event is going on now. Ah – it’s already over? Netherlands won…and now for the finals, they’d be shooting against…Korea,” Yixing looked at Chanyeol with a grim expression, “It’s the finals, Chanyeol. If you leave now, you’ll make it in time for the Men’s Team, and the Individual.”

There was a weight on Chanyeol’s back. It appeared to be the weight of  _ his  _ crown – his dignity, his art, his everything. This crown was put on his head with trouble, pain, sweat and tears and hours upon hours of hard work. The Crown wanted him to leave for US and enjoy this life, rediscover peace and walk upon this new road. That’s probably what Baekhyun’s crown had felt like too.

And yet, the archer had taken it off. He’d called him.

_ But I want you to be there! _

_ Yes, yes, yes. _

It haunted him – that sweet voice, that broken voice, that lovely voice –  _ yes, yes, yes.  _ Baekhyun had taken the crown off. He’d accepted the pain. He’d come so far.

The commentary continued on the phone, “…and here are the archers from Korea! Byun Baekhyun…and Kim Chaeyoung step out on the grounds. Is it just me or did the aura intensify? I don’t blame you, but both look like they are aiming for the gold today. But then again, which team isn’t?”

Yixing whistled, “He looks scary. Look at him.”

The tablet was put in his face, forcing Chanyeol to look at him, just when the camera zoomed in at him. The white uniform fit him well. His eyes were sharp and calculated, and his hat was tilted back. His straps were carefully attached, and his fingers looked pretty, even with all the added mechanics.

It was harder to swallow.

Yixing sighed, “You’re really stubborn.”

He was. He took out his own phone to avoid watching the livestream, when suddenly he noticed the message he’d received. An audio message. Sent by Baekhyun.

His heartbeat picked up and he grabbed his earphones and hurriedly put them in the phone and played the audio message. The chatter around the airport faded in the background as the message played. Everything was silent and then –

_ ‘Chanyeol’ _

His heart skipped a beat. Baekhyun sounded just like he had…years ago. Just like last night.

_ ‘So…I’m sitting out on this couch. And I…I miss you,’  _ His voice shook a little,  _ ‘But I understand. Yes. I understand. Yes.’  _ Not again…

_ ‘I…just wanted to thank you, yeah, thank you. Because I’m grateful to you,’  _ He stumbled over words, stretched some of them longer than the others,  _ ‘Ah, I’m already getting emotional. But I’m grateful. Because you’ve been holding my hand for so long – I feel stupid. I kept searching for what I already had next to me. And now you’re not here…I definitely miss you. A lot. Ah, Park Chanyeol, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you!’  _ The whine in the end had Chanyeol smiling. Despite everything.

_ ‘Despite everything…’  _ Ah, despite everything, ‘ _ I am still deeply in love with you.’ _

Don’t cry, Chanyeol. Be strong.

_ ‘I wish you were here. But you’re not…’  _ Why was he not?  _ ‘But that’s okay. I set you free, Chanyeol-ah. Now you can fly too,’  _ There was a smile on his face, in Baekhyun’s voice, despite everything,  _ ‘I’ll watch over you. In fact, I don’t know how you feel about this, but I booked a ticket to the States too – I wanted to see your artwork. Don’t worry. I won’t meet you. Even if I see you, I won’t approach you. To make you feel better, if you’d see me, I’ll grab the next person I see and start kissing them…although, I’ll probably end up in jail.’ _

He laughed a little. He wanted to cry a little too, because Baekhyun was giving up his night – hopefully his victory night – to spend hours in a crampy plane.

‘ _ Or you know, if I’m a good enough kisser, I won’t end up in jail after all,’  _ Baekhyun laughed,  _ ‘Although, I don’t want to kiss anybody but you. But, like I said, I understand. Yes.’  _ No, don’t make him cry,  _ ‘Chanyeol, I listened to your words. My mom came here today. I let her apologize. I told her I will never forgive her and that now, I can’t bring myself to involve myself with her. I feel at peace. I’ve let her go.’ _

Chanyeol was proud. He was damn proud.

_ ‘I’ve let go of Heechul too. He doesn’t deserve me.’  _ Chanyeol smiled,  _ ‘I’ve not let go of archery – it will take more time to figure this out, but I’ll be patient. And I…I can’t ever let go of you. Never. And strangely,’  _ Baekhyun was crying now. Chanyeol knew it,  _ ‘And despite everything…strangely…I’m at peace with just loving you. I’m at peace.’ _

_ ‘But I wish you were here. Then, I could’ve promised that I’d win. Because I’d win for you. I’d do anything for you. I’m scared right now – to face the world. Are they going to hate me? Are they going to accept me? It just puts more pressure to win. It weakens me…the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been. But I just wanted to know – are you cheering for me?’ _

Baekhyun paused. He sniffled.

_ ‘Because if you’re cheering for me, I’m ready to defy all odds. I’m ready – I’m ready – to,’  _ He started sobbing lightly, and it broke Chanyeol into pieces, and then Baekhyun sniffed,  _ ‘Ah, never mind that, I’ve been very emotional these days. Just…cheer for me, Chanyeol-ah. I’ll play believing you’re cheering for me – although I know you’re not – but…I love you. If you ever decide you want me back, I’ll be waiting for you. Always. Yes.’ _

The message ended.

Silence.

Chanyeol took his earphones out.

“– Yo, yo, Chanyeol – Park Chanyeol!?” Yixing looked at him with a bewildered expression, “Wow, you’re alive?”

Chanyeol stood up, “Yixing, how far is the championship from here again?”

Yixing’s confused expression gave way to the biggest smile of the decade, “Not that far, might have to break certain laws…but we’re doing it for love. Who’s watching anyway?”

He grinned and they started running out.  _ Ah, Byun Baekhyun, the things I do for you… _

__

__

The mixed event passed easily, with Korea easily bagging the gold.

Kim Chaeyoung and Byun Baekhyun were an admirable force, with definitely attractive faces, and unopposed skill and team spirit. After Chaeyoung shot the last arrow of the match – a ten, she leaned into Baekhyun –

“ _ Oppa,  _ they ship us real bad.”

He giggled, “Too bad for them, we’re both gay.”

She smiled mischievously, “What are you saying? My make-up artist is just my make-up artist. Definitely not my fiancé.”

He patted her on the back, “Yeah, yeah. Congratulations to the both of you, though,” He looked at the score screen, “Looks like we won.”

“Not to be arrogant or anything, but I knew we would.”

Baekhyun smiled, “Same.”

Korea was known for its archery. It’s not unknown for them to bag the gold for multiple events. Yet, every victory was hard earned.

“India won the Women’s Team Olympic qualifier,” Chae-young sat next to Baekhyun, wiping her sweaty brow, “Ah, losing feels bad.”

Baekhyun nodded. His eyes were focused on the ground, which was currently being set for the next event – Men’s Team. Losing…felt horrible. He didn’t want to lose.

“I don’t think we’ll win the Men’s Team either,” She said lightly, “China…is gaining fast in the event.”

Immediately, his eyes snapped towards the team in mention, “It’s funny,” He said, “They look clumsy, and they barely manage to scrape by, and yet, they’re dangerous.”

She leaned back and shut her eyes, “I’ll tell you – they have teamwork. More than that, they aren’t like us – for us, it’s either a ten and nine, or we directly fall to a six. But they gain forward by keeping steady with the seven and eights too. They push forward through sheer force. We, however, take archery as a dance.”

Baekhyun shrugged, “And that’s not bad, really. That’s the beauty of sports – it’s different everywhere.”

She nodded lightly… “You sound like an Olympian.”

He turned towards her, “Why?”

“You just do.”

“You’re weird.”

She just smirked a little, before the smirk fell off, “I’m worried. There’s a chance you  _ might  _ win Men’s Team…but Individual…the archer from USA is way above you in terms of ranking. There’s a gap of points bigger than a hundred.”

Baekhyun bit his lip, “I know.”

“You need to win Individual to proceed to Olympics. Even if you win Men’s Team, there might be a slight chance,” She fixed her hat, “If you win Men’s Team right now, and I win Women’s Individual…then we both might be together for Olympics Mixed Archery…I mean, that is, if Kim Minseok doesn’t jump over you. He’s just two ranks down from you.”

Baekhyun stared at her, “Did you learn all the rankings?”

“It’s my mental exercise. It helps me move closer to my goal – which is to rank number one in the world!” She said boldly, her enthusiasm was shining crystal. It made Baekhyun smile too –

“My goal is just…to rise and to be happy.” He said, eyeing the sun.

She pouted, “What a simple goal, Baekhyun.”

He laughed lightly, “Really? I think it’s the most difficult. Because it’s too vague.”

She fixed her stare at him and clicked her tongue, “Are you happy right now, oppa?”

The sunlight fell softly on him. It could have been softer. He tilted his head, “I’m happy. I could be…happier. But I’m happy.”

There was silence. Chaeyoung probably understood, after all, she was in a relationship too. They basked under the sun until Baekhyun’s coach called for him, “The Men’s event is going to start!”

He skidded off his chair and skipped forward, before turning around to Chaeyoung, “Since you girls lost, I’ll try to cover up for your asses.”

She snorted, “I’ll do that in the Individual’s. You worry about yourself.”

He smiled cheekily when she raised a fist up in the air, softly, “Become happier, oppa. That’s your goal.”

Baekhyun’s limbs were already tingling with a familiar energy. He placed a hand on his stomach, “To becoming happier. That’s my goal.”

Chanyeol swerved a harsh left, and the car skidded dangerously before straightening up. He tuned Yixing’s constant complaints of ‘You said you could drive, kid!’ out and instead focused on getting there as soon as possible. Because of the traffic on the highway, he had to make quick and questionable decisions regarding the route, which involved violation of few laws; and if he kept driving, the few would become many.

“What’s happening now?” He shouted.

Yixing looked down to his tablet and cursed as he tried to figure out what’s happening, “Uhh, the female team came second, and now it’s the men’s team. Oh wait, I see Baekhyun – I’m not even gay, but bro, he’s hot.”

There was silence from Yixing’s part so Chanyeol sneaked a quick look at him, only to be angered greatly –

“Stop ogling at him! And tell me what’s going on!” He  _ heard  _ Yixing roll his eyes –

“Alright, alright. They’re doing the team intros. It’s Korea vs China – oh they’re talking about the Korean team now…hmm…” He paused and then started speaking in a very bad mimicry of the commentator, “The Korean Team holds high-ranked archers. Byun Baekhyun, Kim Minseok, Kim Junmyeon. Byun Baekhyun is the highest ranked Korean male archer present in this event today. He bagged gold at the Mixed Event earlier.”

Chanyeol grinned widely, “I knew he would.”

Yixing grunted as Chanyeol made another fast swerve, “I know you’re in a great hurry and whatever, but I don’t have life insurance, so can you, like, slow down?”

Chanyeol turned to look at him with big eyes, “You don’t have life insurance? My mother did that for me.”

Yixing almost jumped out in horror, “Look at the road, idiot! I’m not talking about the legal stuff. What I’m saying is that if I die, I’d die, so drive carefully!”

“What else do you expect to happen after you die?” Chanyeol shrugged, casually driving the car at least two times faster than the recommended speed, “Once you die, you die,” The artist grinned in a way that only the artist could, wide-teeth, blown eyes, flat nose – and staring  _ right ahead at disaster,  _ “So…it’s better to live like you mean it.”

For a few seconds, the words floated around and then Chanyeol screamed, which caused Yixing to scream, and stomped on the brakes. The road underneath burned, and the tires whistled and roared as they stopped.

Yixing took approximately one minute and twenty-six seconds to realize that he was alive, thanks to his ultra-tightly secured seatbelt, “Holy…holy god that watches over idiots driving double the speed limit…holy –  _ why the fuck did you stop like that?”  _ The road ahead was quite clear. Yixing’s vision wasn’t. He felt like he’d vomit.

In all fairness, Chanyeol looked equally as queasy as Yixing felt. He lifted a shaky finger up and pointed at the road and Yixing saw what he had missed earlier… “It’s a…a snail.”

If Yixing was saved earlier from having his head banged against the windshield, now he’d do it willingly.

It was halfway through the match that Baekhyun felt…they might not win this. The realization came with a pang of hurt, worry, shame, regret…and everything else that materialized when you didn’t need it, and it was because of  _ that  _ weight that his next arrow flew astray, and landed at a seven. It might have been okay, but they didn’t need okay at that time, because he was closing the set off, and that made them lose the set awarding two points to the other team. The Chinese team cheered. They now had four set points, while Korea had…none. The first to reach five set points won…so unless they somehow magically managed to win three continuous sets or win two continuous sets and tie in one set – which would still lead to a tiebreaker – they would lose. Baekhyun sighed as he walked back to the resting area.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault,” He drank the water that was offered to him.

Kim Minseok patted his back, “You know that even if you scored a ten, it would have been a tie and one set point would have been awarded to them, and one to us. Either way…we have to somehow win two consecutive sets.”

Coach Song smiled, “Now, now. The first rule of archery is – what is it Baekhyun?”

“Think about putting the small rocks up rather than creating the mountain,” He echoed, “We’ll focus on delivering the perfect arrow each time and leave everything else up to…uhm – anyone religious out here?” He looked around and Junmyeon raised his hand –

“Leave everything else up to Buddha’s teachings.”

Baekhyun nodded, “Yeah, that.”

The sun rays were harsher now.

Kim Minseok spoke silently, “Let’s go and get this set.”

“Park Chanyeol!”

“What?”

“They lost two consecutive sets. And now unless they  _ win  _ two consecutive sets, and then win or tie in the third one, they’ll lose.”

Chanyeol cursed, “Holy shit, I can’t even call Baekhyun and tell him to win this right now. Ugh, go faster, faster, faster you dumb car!”

Yixing regretted his decision of telling Chanyeol the scores.

Minseok was the opener. He slid his arrow firmly in the string and drew it out with practiced vigour. Baekhyun found himself closing his eyes and praying…praying to karma that this arrow would be a ten or a nine. Tens…were good beginners, however they lost significance if they weren’t followed by at least a nine, while nines were good beginners because they created stepping stones to a set full of tens.

The arrow flew. It was a ten.

Baekhyun breathed out relieved. Junmyeon followed up with a quick nine, and then it was his turn. He tried to empty his mind of void thoughts of importance of points and drew his arrow. Red. Bullseye was red too. With that thought, he shot.

Bullseye.

His happiness was short lived because the Chinese Team followed up with quick tens and nines. However, they were battled with Korea’s three consecutive tens. The Chinese Team couldn’t beat  _ that  _ thus the set went to Korea, earning its first set points. The addition of two points to an embarrassing zero calmed Baekhyun down a bit, but on the other side, there were four points, calling out for  _ just one more point. _

_ Calm down, Baekhyun. Calm down. _

He tried thinking of Chanyeol’s paintings of him – The Ideal Eagle, Yellow, Red, String, Target, Victory, the Crown…and even the very beautiful painting that Baekhyun had ruined. He deeply regretted that. But for now, regret was an emotion which could only hamper him. His eyes scanned the area for someone – that he knew wouldn’t be here – but all he saw were his parents. Fire seared through his veins.

_ Revenge… _ will only hamper him too.

“The next set is starting,” Junmyeon said, his eyes on the ground. For some reason, the archer had been avoiding him. He didn’t understand why. They used to be close.

Minseok began with a nine, and Junmyeon followed with a ten. Baekhyun’s eyes were still clouded by doubt, and that showed when his arrow only hit the eight line. He cursed as the whistle went off, and the arrow was examined carefully.

“It’s a nine!” The examiner shouted, “It’s touching the boundary more than not.”

The signals went off again as his score was updated. He sighed. Close save. His relief was again short-lived as the Chinese Team followed with three, strong tens. The middle archer even managed to hit bullseye.

“They’re intimidating,” Minseok admitted, “I’m scared of messing up.”

“Don’t be,” Baekhyun advised grimly, “Because then, you  _ will  _ mess up.”

Minseok went off and he shot another nine. Junmyeon, thankfully, was steady and followed with a ten. Baekhyun shot a ten too.

“Fifty-seven,” Baekhyun whispered in Junmyeon’s ear, who flinched harshly, “They’re at thirty, three arrows remaining.”

The first archer started off with an eight, which was a relief. The second however followed up with another ten.

“Holy shit,” Minseok said, “If the third one scores a nine, we lose. They’ll get their fifth set point.”

“The third one,” Junmyeon added, “He hasn’t scored  _ less  _ than nine since this match started.”

The third archer drew his arrow and Baekhyun, whose heart was racing several kilometres per hour whistled lowly to get rid of some of that tension, “Well, moment of truth…”

The arrow flew like a smooth breeze and landed on the eighth boundary – just like Baekhyun’s first arrow had.

“Nine!” The referee declared, and Baekhyun felt something shrivelling up inside him. He’d come so far…Individuals was nearly impossible. It’s…goodbye Olympics. His eyes welled up slightly as he remembered the promise he’d made to Chanyeol – to win. Also, the last shred of his pride in front of his parents would burn to ashes.

It was all over…

Just then, a voice boomed, “Wait!”

The commentary and the celebrations stopped as the examiner said, “It’s not a nine. It’s an eight.”

Several things happened at once. The target was zoomed in, examined again, measured, compared and then finally, it was announced –

“It’s an eight. This set goes to Korea!”

For a moment, there was silence. And then, it sunk in.

_ They could win. _

Immediately, Baekhyun jumped up and hugged Minseok and they shrieked like little boys getting autographs from their idol. Junmyeon kept smiling weirdly –  _ Ah, I can’t believe. Oh god. Oh Buddha. I can’t believe. _

“Whew! That was…insane, god!” Yixing screamed.

And immediately, like a parrot, Chanyeol let out the strings of questions he’s been repeating for so long, “What happened? Did he win? Did he lose? What happened?”

Yixing gave him a very quick run over. He didn’t miss the way Chanyeol’s eyes sparkled whenever Baekhyun was mentioned. Ah, love. Love was like a river for an artist. A river endlessly flowing with more and more ideas, inspiration –  _ love. _

_ Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well –  _ Vincent Van Gogh.

They had stepped out for the last set of this match.

Either they’d lose…or they’d win.

They didn’t expect this to happen.

“58-58!” The commentator spoke in his mike, “We’ll be heading for a tie-breaker!”

Fear and panic riled up in Baekhyun. He knew the entire Korean team felt this fear. The Chinese looked grim too, but they hugged each other and wore proud smiles. Baekhyun tried not to collapse and header to his Coach.

“I’m freaking out.”

“Same.”

He tried to ease the frown, “Fuck, I feel like my pregnancy hormones are acting up. I want to pee, and cry, and vomit. In no particular order. And this…eighteen kilograms bow isn’t helping.”

He wanted to cry. Why was life being unfair?

The Coach smiled, “Baekhyun. Go. Shoot.”

He did. Putting all complaints aside, he went and stood in line. The Chinese started first – the beginner opened with a nine, followed by two consecutive tens. Baekhyun took in a deep breath and prepared himself. He wished he was the opener – being at the last was the most nerve-wracking. Nevertheless, he stood there proudly. Minseok started off with a swift ten. Baekhyun muted the cheers around him. Junmyeon didn’t, thus he staggered and scored a nine. Baekhyun didn’t even allow himself to  _ think  _ about it, before drawing his arrow out and shooting a smooth, cut ten.

Once, the arrow was there, he tried not to break down. Here…another tiebreaker. He couldn’t do this.

Now, the distance of the arrows from the center would be considered. They skipped the first two arrows as they weren’t the same and moved on to the last one – the one Baekhyun shot. As the distance was measured, his heart crawled into his throat. Minseok put an arm around him.

“Minseok-!” Baekhyun sobbed out lightly, “It’s not my best arrow.”

The older calmed him down, “Whatever happens, it’s not your fault.”

Junmyeon stood frozen, “It’s my fault.”

“It’s not,” Baekhyun said quickly, “We’re a team. Loses mean that it’s all  _ our  _ fault. Collectively.”

“Right,” Minseok said, “So don’t you dare cry.”

“It’s just – it’ll be the end,” His face crumpled up, “I’m pregnant. I think if I don’t make it in the Olympics then…it will be the end for me.”

“Don’t say that,” Minseok’s eyes were wet too, “You’re my rival. You have to shoot as long as I do, and I don’t plan on quitting, so you can’t quit either. Hush.”

After what appeared to be centuries, the announcer said, “Korea’s arrow is short of 13.1 centimeter, while China’s arrow is short of 12.9 centimeters. Thus, we have our champion.”

The crowd roared, and the victors jumped and celebrated, while the losers walked over to the side. Junmyeon was frozen. He kept muttering, “We lost by 0.2 centimeters. Just…0.2 centimeters.”

Baekhyun didn’t say a word. He didn’t want to. Minseok tried to smile, but it was obviously hard for him too.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Chanyeol roared, “0.2 centimeters?!”

Yixing shook his head, “Oh, god. Your boyfriend does such intense stuff. I feel like I’m going to hide under a blanket and keep crying. I can’t even imagine what  _ he  _ is feeling right now?”

“Baekhyun hates losing,” Chanyeol said silently. His eyes were angry, “Sports make me so inspired and furious. I hate it.”

Yixing understood, “I…understand now. You…him, archery and art. Distinctions and lines and where they meet. I understand.”

Chanyeol said nothing. But he knew.

“How long until we get there?” His voice was low.

“About 30 minutes.”

“Alright.”

Kang Chaeyoung was ready. She looked at a silent Baekhyun with fire in her eyes, “Korea can’t just have one gold. I’m going to get another.”

“Yes. We’re getting two golds,” They embraced, and he patted her on the back, but just then he felt her whisper in his ear –

“Three is the magic number, Baekhyun. You have to get us the third medal,” She was pleading, and then she was gone.

Baekhyun eyed the crowd. His parents were sitting there solemnly. He fisted his hands. They didn’t get to play the victim or play the victor – he’d make sure they’d be the loser. He wanted to win  _ so  _ bad,  _ so, so bad. _

… But how?

His American competitor wasn’t fretting like him. He was sitting and observing the match. There was strength in his movements, and he gave out a relaxed aura…like an archer should. And then there was Baekhyun, an archer who had three mental breakdowns per minute. How could he possibly win?

_ Chanyeol, save me. _

The match started. Chaeyoung was a beast. Her first arrow struck the center. The match would probably end soon…and then his would start.

_ How…how can I do this? _

Suddenly, there was a hand atop his.

He looked up and found Kyungsoo standing there, “Calm down. You’re stressed. Talk to me.”

“I…have to  _ win. _ ”

“You don’t.”

Baekhyun looked at him; helpless.

“Your goal is to rise, Baekhyun. You can do that without winning,” Kyungsoo looked at the grounds, “You see that seventy metre stretch? If right now you’re at zero, then even seven metres ahead…is rising.”

“But it’s not enough!”

“Who said that?”

Again, he was helpless.

“I promised Chanyeol I’d win.”

“You didn’t.”

He frowned, “I did.”

“You told him you would promise your victory if he was here,” Kyungsoo smiled sadly at him, “He’s not. You don’t need to. You told him you’d defy all odds. You already won the mixed event. You already stood here. That’s…enough too. You can go further, Baek, but you’re come so far – don’t forget that. There’s nobody you need to win for – especially not Chanyeol. He’ll never hate you if you lose.”

For some reason, both of them looked at his parents and Kyungsoo continued – “I know. I know you think that way because…because of them. But Baekhyun, don’t give them the importance. Don’t let  _ them  _ be the reason of your victory…or your defeat. Don’t owe it to them.”

And slowly, it dawned on him – the reason why he had to win –  _ revenge. _

“I know you think that if you shove your victory in their faces, it’d feel good. But it would feel better if you played for yourself and your own happiness, and your family ain’t it,” Kyungsoo smiled at him, “Victory or loss isn’t important. Just play for yourself…and that’s enough. More than enough.”

_ You’re worth it…when you’re breathing. Just your being alive is more than enough for me. _

He couldn’t help but feel something bloom inside him. It was love, calm, peace and happiness…for himself.

_ Ah, Byun Baekhyun, you’ve come so far. _

Baekhyun’s prediction was right. The Women’s Individual Champion Trophy was smoothly coming closer and closer to Korea. Chaeyoung’s arrows were quick, sharp and to the point – much like her. It made him think that archery was a representation of the archers, just like art was for artists and yet, he felt so disconnected to his archer self. He imagined himself in Chanyeol’s paintings – looking beautiful, calm and strong. Was he that person? Nah, he was too much of an emotional mess…but then maybe, today, he could play  _ like  _ himself.

Just for himself.

Just for his own happiness and satisfaction.

He could. He would.

Till his turn, he watched the ongoing match. He wished Chanyeol was here to make him feel less lonely…and more confident.

“We’re here!” Yixing shouted, “Oh god, I’m never letting you drive again.”

Chanyeol showed him his tongue, “Your fault for not knowing how to drive.”

“I  _ do _ know…I just mess up at turning. And I can’t get the car above twenty.”

“Exactly.”

“Doesn’t mean you had to fly it at one-twenty!”

“That was for  _ one  _ second.”

“Enough time for me to lose my life – OH, I see an empty stop.” Chanyeol swerved towards it and the car was immediately parked, “Hurry, let’s go!”

“What’s happening now?”

Yixing looked at the live, “Kim Chaeyoung won – they’re announcing Baekhyun’s name!”

Chanyeol bit his tongue and started running, throwing the car key to Yixing, “I’m off!”

“I can see that!”

But the artist didn’t hear him. He pushed through the glass doors. Yixing was angry…but he couldn’t help but laugh. Ah, love.

Baekhyun walked towards the shooting line. His heartbeat was really fast. He also couldn’t help but notice that his American competitor was taller than him – it really wasn’t an important detail, but it annoyed him a lot. The commentator went off, and Baekhyun counted how many times the word ‘pregnant’ was used. Only four times. Better.

His bow felt uncomfortable in his shaking hands. Cold sweat glided down his nape. His competitor on the other hand, looked as if he was walking through a beach – that amount of chilled. He had glasses on that he fixed, before giving Baekhyun a toothy smile. The archer tried to smile back, but it came off as a weird frozen look of panic. He tugged his hat down, but it almost covered his eyes.

Oh god no…

He fixed it again, and again. Every moment was passing by so quickly. It wouldn’t be late until he’d have to shoot the first arrow…and with the amount of nervousness he was carrying, it wouldn’t even fly seventy metres across. The stabilizers would probably float around. As the commentary went on, he kept looking at his clicker. He should have oiled it more…

He looked at the bleachers – and of course, Chanyeol wasn’t there.  _ He’s probably halfway to America already.  _ Fear settled in the pit of his stomach. He really wanted to go to the bathroom. This was so nerve-wrecking. He sighed. Sighing…was never a good sign.

“And now, the final match of this wonderful event will finally begin!”

  1. _NO. NO._



The whistle blew off. Baekhyun’s core was shaking. He looked back at his coach who gave him a thumbs-up. He had twenty seconds to get his shit together and shoot.

_ 20. _

He looked hesitantly at the target, trying to shut out the commentators’ ‘ _ Korea’s champion looks a little…nervous today?’ _

_ 19. _

He clenched and unclenched his hands which were on the bow, trying to familiarize himself with the grip. This would be the first arrow of his match.

_ 18. _

He was playing for himself and every other mantra went to hell.

_ 17. _

This was where he’d returned from last time. It seemed that even after three years, things hadn’t changed.

_ 16. _

His competitor had come very close to breaking the 699/720 record. Baekhyun was far away from that record by almost thirty points.

_ 15. _

Chanyeol, I’m sorry. I can’t do this.

Before the fifteenth second could tick away, there was the sound of feet clapping against the ground, as if an impromptu march was taking place. Followed by that sound was a loud –

“BAEKHYUN, I’M CHEERING FOR YOU.”

His eyes widened. He looked up and he couldn’t help the smile on his face when he saw Chanyeol, still carrying his backpack, sweating profusely and looking at him as if he was the most artistic piece on the planet ever.

“Baekhyun…shoot!” His coach said and Baekhyun lifted his hands up.  _ Ah…from his vision, the draw was smooth, a little shaky, but still it was good.  _ He pulled the arrow back with newfound strength and he looked at the target. There was energy in his movements. There was love in his eyes. There was happiness in his smile.

His body relaxed, and his senses mulled into one, until everything around him was Chanyeol.

He shot.

He didn’t even see where the arrow went. He immediately looked up. Chanyeol wasn’t looking at the target either – he was looking at him with a love-filled smile. Baekhyun smiled back, feeling emotions flood his senses.

Cheers erupted from the crowd. Baekhyun didn’t check, because he blew a flying kiss to Chanyeol and the latter caught it – it was a bullseye.

Now, Baekhyun had made a promise. He’d keep it.

The first set went by smoothly. Tens followed by tens from both sides. But he still managed to win. By one point.

“Two set points for Korea!”

Only four more.

The second set was harder. His competitor seemed to be…hardened a bit on his arrows. There was utmost concentration in his eyes. Baekhyun, somehow realized that if he won  _ this  _ set, it would be very easy to win the trophy, because America seemed stressed already. Baekhyun was stressed too, but every time he’d look at Chanyeol, everything else would fade away.

His competitor shot first. Two tens, and a nine. Baekhyun raised his bow. His first shot was a nine. Breathe. The next consecutive shots were both tens. He could feel the stress between them rising, increasing by tenfolds. A thin line connected both of them to their sanity. This…was the finals after all.

The next arrows from his competitor were all tens – something that the crowd cheered about like hooligans.

Shit. Panic settling in again. He looked up at Chanyeol, but he could see that the artist also had a frown on his face. Shit.

He shot. The arrow staggered a bit, making him stop his breath, but it reached the ten, nevertheless. He breathed out. Next. This one was quick and smooth and hit the ten with a great ease. Just one more. Pressure haunted him and sweat felt cold on his forehead. He tried to relax his body and shot – immediately regretting as he realized he hadn’t been on his perfect stance…and that showed as the arrow stuck eight.

“Shit,” He cursed under his breath.

“Two set points of US!”

They went back to their respective areas, and Kyungsoo hurriedly wiped away the sweat. He opened his cap, “I don’t need it. It’s not that sunny.”

The coach licked his lips, “Alright. Slow down a bit, okay?”

He nodded and drank a little water, feeling nauseous, “At least I get to start the next set. I feel better when I shoot first.”

Kyungsoo snorted, “We don’t. We like knowing what we have to deal with.”

Baekhyun shivered slightly, “This is…so making me freak out.”

“Don’t.” Kyungsoo said, “Look, lover boy has been looking at you for the past two minutes.” Baekhyun looked up at Chanyeol. The artist was pouting at him. Baekhyun could read his lips –  _ Finally, you noticed me! _

Baekhyun smiled up at him, and his smile only grew wider as Chanyeol did a finger heart –  _ I left my flight for you. _

The archer was surprised but he was also giddy. He turned back to his Coach, “Hmm…I don’t feel  _ that  _ nervous.” He giggled.

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, “The media’s going to have a field run on this.”

“Let them. I love my Chanyeol.”

The Coach was amused, “Then, go win for ‘your Chanyeol’”

“Oh, I will,” The archer straightened up, all traces of nervousness gone, “I’m going to make this set my bitch.”

Kyungsoo coughed, “Try not to curse Baek. We’re live.”

“Hell fucking yes, I know!” He turned back to the field, “Come on, bitch. You’re mine now.”

Kyungsoo laughed at Baekhyun’s pout and he mimicked, ‘Come on, bitch. You’re mine, now.’

Baekhyun’s pout intensified. He could feel even Chanyeol laughing at him, “Technically, I still got it.”

“ _ Half  _ of it,” Kyungsoo corrected, “Now, you’re both matched. Three set points each.”

Baekhyun sat down for a bit, “I hate ties.”

“Since when?” The Coach asked, “You said you loved the tension.”

“Loved it till I lost the Men’s.”

Kyungsoo laughed, “Baek? Hey, Baek. Look at your boyfriend.”

Baekhyun did. Chanyeol had  _ glee  _ in his eyes. He was laughing but he stopped when he saw Baekhyun looking at him and instead gave him a thumbs up. Baekhyun glared at him, before feeling his shoulders deflate. He had to gain  _ three  _ more set-points. How will he ever win…

“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo said, handing his phone to the archer, “Chanyeol’s on call.”

Baekhyun looked up at the artist. Chanyeol was holding his phone to his ear and gesturing at him to pick the call up. He did. 

_ “Baekhyun.” _

“Yes?”

_ “I love you.” _

Baekhyun blinked, “What-?” Before he could reply, it was time to go and stand on the line again. His Coach took the phone away and shoved him –

“You can do it.”

Baekhyun was dazed. He felt happy as he stood on the line. His competitor started first – two nines, and one ten, and it was his turn. Baekhyun blinked at the target. Suddenly the seventy metres of the distance seemed to shorten. Approximately, six buses could fit in the distance between him and the ten…and yet, it seemed as if the ten mark was only a seat away.

He lifted his bow, drew his arrow, released the arrow and let his bow fall on his thigh. He wasn’t even surprised when it hit the ten. He picked his bow again.

“Dude,” Yixing said next to him. His eyes were wide in disbelief, “I’m sure your boyfriend just broke some sort of record.”

For Baekhyun’s last six arrows had all been tens.

Chanyeol’s grin and his wide smile couldn’t falter – his archer didn’t let it fall. Every time Chanyeol would think ‘Oh, the wind has this one,’ Baekhyun would shoot a ten again. The archer always proved him wrong…and he was there for it. Even the American fans around him were surprised by the little pregnant Korean archer.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Asked an American man in… well American accentuated English.

“Yeah…yeah, he is,” Chanyeol stumbled over words before smiling at the man, “He’s amazing.”

“That I can see for sure. He’s really legendary,” The man smiled at him, “You’re really lucky. What would your name be?”

“Ah – Park Chanyeol,” He smiled dumbly, “C-H-A-N-Y-E-O-L.” He said when the guy struggled with the pronunciation.

“Chan…Yeol,” This time the man succeeded, almost, “I’m Carl. Nice to meet you. I think your boyfriend’s going to win this.”

The artist just smiled. He didn’t want to appreciate Baekhyun a lot and come off as rude or boastful. Sports…were really intense. He eyed the score board. His little archer had easily won the fourth set, gaining five points in total. He just needed  _ one  _ more point…to win.

If anyone could rise that high after falling so low…it was Baekhyun.

When Baekhyun went back to rest a bit, till they cleared the scoreboards, Chanyeol called Kyungsoo again. He laughed when he saw the exasperated look on the doe-eyed man’s face –

_ “What is it Chanyeol? This is a game, not your romantic date!” _

_ “Kyungsoo – it’s Chanyeol?”  _ He heard Baekhyun’s sweet voice ask dubiously _ , “Give it to me!” _

Chanyeol smiled as he saw Baekhyun pouting. He looked so adorable. The phone was handed over – nobody could resist that pout. Not even Kyungsoo.

_ “Chanyeollie~”  _ Baekhyun’s honeyed sweet voice called out. Chanyeol’s heart hurt.  _ He longed to have that yellow ball of happiness in his arms, longed to feel the purple surround him. _

_ “Baekhyun, that’s disgusting,”  _ He heard Kyungsoo’s voice say.

Baekhyun didn’t react to his friend at all. He must’ve been used to it by now.

Chanyeol broke the short-lived silence, “Baek.”

_ “Hmm?” _

__ Chanyeol didn’t even know what he wanted to say, but when he opened his mouth, the words flew out. “You look very cute today,” Something warm spread inside him, something yellow, “Even while shooting. You don’t look scary.”

_ “I am very cute. You’re just noticing now.”  _ The cherry red was so poppy. So vibrant. How could he ever think he could live without it?

“No, today there’s softness in your eyes rather than your eagle eyes.” He thought back to the Ideal Eagle, and in his mind, he redrew the painting…but this time instead of an eagle, a little bird painted itself in hues of reds and yellows and blues.

_ “It’s for you.” I love you. _

Chanyeol blushed. They were being so cringy, but it felt so good, “Baek, if you win then I’ll…”

_ “You will marry me?” _

Chanyeol laughed. He wanted to. “Maybe, after you win the Olympics.”

_ “We’ll be twenty. Too young.”  _ Chanyeol decided not to mention the fact that Baekhyun was becoming a parent at the age of nineteen – or actually twenty for Baekhyun.

“Whenever you want then.”

Baekhyun just smiled,  _ “Then what will you do now if I win?” _

“I’ll hug you.”

_ “Huh?” _

“And I’ll kiss you,” Chanyeol closed his eyes, imagining the scene, feeling the colours travel up his veins, “I’ll lift you up and peck your cute little cheeks.”

_ “Ass-cheeks?”  _ Baekhyun was pouting, like an innocent nineteen-year-old. But said nineteen-year-old was better than a porn star in bed.

Chanyeol laughed. He was a tad bit embarrassed too, “I’m surprised Kyungsoo hasn’t beaten you up already.”

“Perks of being pregnant,” He could see Baekhyun wink at him, “Also he’s feigning death behind me because of our grossness. But more importantly, when will you hug and kiss me?”

The archers were called on field. Chanyeol smiled, “You’ll come to know. For now, go…and win.”

This was it.

If Baekhyun won this set, he could win. Even if he got a tie, he’d win.

He just had to  _ not  _ lose.

When he stepped out on the lines, he looked up at the sky. The yellow and orange hues of the sun intermingled with the blue, and white clouds shielded him from the direct heat. In front of him, the target seemed small and tiny. He had to hit the golden area – tens, and nines. The tenth ring was 12.2 cm long in diameter.

He breathed in, and his competitor picked his bow up. The Wiawis AFT gleamed, and the stabilizers looked like demon missiles. His draw was immaculate. The string was stretched to perfection. Baekhyun’s eyes snapped towards his competitor and he could see that the string that held them down…broke. His competitor had panic in his eyes for a second, and the arrow flew. The bow fell back lamely.

The arrow hit an eight. He could feel the fear of his competitor. The itch of the panic that his competitor was suffering from spread throughout the area.

His competitor raised his brow again. He was breathing a little shakily. Baekhyun surveyed him, looked through his form, mentally nitpicking at all the holes in his form. Neither were they looking at each other nor were they talking to each other – but archery was a communication that ran deeper than words. They could encase everything that was happening in every single tendon and bone.

Archery…was chess. Intimidation was art. Victory was a lifestyle.

The next arrow landed on a nine. Baekhyun raised his eyebrows in the slightest. He felt his competitor draw in a sharp breath as if glass was stuck in his air canals. The third draw was shaky…Baekhyun let his hawk eyes zoom into that moment of hesitation. He built his own walls up, forgetting victory from defeat, zoning everything that didn’t matter out – no commentators, no crowd, no cheers, no competition. All he could see was the sun, the clouds, the grass, the target…and Chanyeol.

There was a vacuum between him and the world. And Chanyeol was in the center of everything, like a black hole, like the sun. Everything revolved around him.

If Chanyeol was the constant in his life, Baekhyun was his Orion. He’d travel all skies; he’d conquer all wars and he’d win. The arrow of his competitor landed on a ten.

Baekhyun lifted his own bow up. The sun fell softly on him, caressing his hair. The skies smiled at him, telling him he’d come far. The grass tickled his feet, reminding him to stay grounded. The wind was soft as if telling him, encouraging him to shoot. It seemed to say that he would succeed.

Chanyeol’s smile was the only thing that mattered. He imagined it to be the target.

And he drew – a wonderful arch, a taut string. He looked at the target in the eye and he shot. The arrow flew, aided by the soft wind.

It landed on a ten.

_ Chanyeol’s love: conquered. _

He drew his next arrow. Artemis was hurt, and yet she didn’t fight hard enough for Orion. She was confused. Baekhyun was tired of skirting around his love, tired of running away, tired of keeping his head down. He straightened his back. He lifted his head.

He shot. It was a ten.

_ Running away: never. _

He drew the arrow again, feeling his arms pain a little, but it was a familiar kind of pain, the kind that felt good – the kind that embraced you. Wasn’t that like his parents? He pulled the arrow back again and the arch – the wonderful arch that had people gasping. Oh, it looked beautiful. He felt beautiful. He was beautiful.

He looked at the target and he thought to himself –  _ I am happy. _

He released the string. This arrow was faster, much, much faster than the other ones. It hit the target with a ‘pop.’ Baekhyun squinted as the sun suddenly glared at him. He didn’t see it…but he felt it. The energy. And then he heard it –

“Are you kidding me?” It was Sehun’s loud voice, “That’s his ninth consecutive ten!”

He smiled a toothy smile.

_ He will be happy: forever. _

__

His competitor picked the bow up again and this time, Baekhyun felt something different. A strong…element had mixed into the aura that surrounded them. He looked at his competitor with huge eyes and gasped when he saw the intense concentration and relaxed aura surrounding him. He realized then – his competitor had  _ forced  _ himself to become calm.

…Legendary.

The first arrow flew and landed at the bullseye. The second fell short of bullseye by only a little. The third landed on bullseye…again. Three tens. The crowd went crazy. His total score was fifty-seven.

Baekhyun picked his bow up, and he froze momentarily as he felt his competitor finding the cracks in him. Intimidation…was a stronger emotion than passion in situations like these. Baekhyun looked at the target, but suddenly the sun was in his eyes. He blinked blearily. He shouldn’t have opened his cap.

He sighed and tried to focus…but the sun just wouldn’t go away. The time was ticking off and he had to shoot, so he did. The arrow landed on an eight.

Shit.

The crowd silenced. He could feel the excitement pulsing through them. They were waiting. His competitor seemed ready to win this…and every other competition ever.

For a few moments, the sun disappeared. Baekhyun didn’t miss his opportunity. He shot. The arrow was a smooth nine.

“Korea needs ten points to tie! Or, they’ll lose, and a new set will have to be started! Can Byun Baekhyun do it?”

_ No, he fucking can’t. _

The archer sighed. Panic flooded him and gripped him once again. Not again… He looked at Chanyeol helplessly. The artist’s face was unreadable. He wasn’t looking at Baekhyun. Then, an American dude next to him elbowed him and Chanyeol turned to look at him –

_ Chanyeol…I’m sorry. _

Chanyeol kept looking at him intensely. He pointed up at the sun and he mouthed, ‘Yellow.’ He pointed towards himself, ‘Blue.’ And then he pointed towards Baekhyun – and the next words weren’t mouthed.

They were shouted, and they were heard.

“RED!”

Onlookers were confused. Baekhyun wasn’t. His eyes snapped towards the target. All the ‘I love you’ and the promises, the colours, the memories, the terrace, the laughs, the kisses, the sex – everything came to life. One moment, he was six and he was pointing at thorns as arrows. Then, he was older and Chanyeol was next to him on a balcony. Then, he was winning his first competition. He was in front of Jaksal Chicken, finding a new home at the age of eleven. He was sitting next to Chanyeol under a tree. He was working his way to the top. He was dating Chanyeol. He ran away from home. He was living his life. He got to know he was pregnant. He found Chanyeol again.

He was the same red. Chanyeol was the same blue. Yellow still stood for happiness.

Chanyeol hadn’t given up on him. Baekhyun hadn’t given up on him either.

They had held on.

He looked up at the sun. It didn’t burn anymore. He planted his feet on the grass, and once again it caressed his shoes. He bent down a little. He straightened his chest and his arms. For a moment, he allowed one hand to linger on his stomach –

_ Your papa is going to win this, baby. _

He looked at the sky once more. He knew what he had to name his baby –  _ Haneul. _

The sun was still hurting his vision, so he allowed his other senses to overtake. He took his time, adjusted his stance, until there was no flaw that could be pointed out. With five seconds left, he drew his arrow.

“Baekhyun!” Chanyeol’s voice was loud and deep, “Shoot!”

There was nothing else to say. Nothing else to think about. He’d already said a lot – he’d been through so many colours, so many skies.

Now, it was finally time for the final showdown.

He released, his hands gliding back smoothly, like an angel. The bow dipped, like a sunset, and it came back, like the sunrise. The arrow flew like a bird straight out of its nest…

It slid smoothly into the arms of the bullseye. 

Silence.

And then, “IT’S BULLSEYE. A TEN. WHICH MEANS AMERICA AND KOREA ARE TIED FOR THIS SET, GAINING ONE POINT EACH. KOREA GETS ITS SIXTH SET POINT. BYUN BAEKHYUN IS THE WINNER!”

And then the crowd erupted. Baekhyun couldn’t really move.

He stood there, looking like a madman, watching the target.

He was shaken out of his…moment of peace, when he felt strong arms around him, wrapping him tightly. He teared up and only after a tear or two escaped did he realize that it was Chanyeol. His body reacted much faster than his mind. He laughed, looked up –

“Chanyeol, I won-”

His words were swallowed as Chanyeol kissed him. A part of the crowd cheered – the non-homophobic ones. Baekhyun held onto him closely for support, for love, for life, and simply because he didn’t want the artist to leave him…ever again. His heart seemed to be whole again. The sun was pale in comparison to the fire that was burning between them.

Love.

He loved Chanyeol so much. He kissed him harder, before resting against the taller’s body, feeling at home.

“I love you,” Chanyeol kissed his forehead, “Baekhyun, I…I love you so much.”

Baekhyun looked up at him tiredly, “…You dumb artist.”

“You amazing archer.”

Suddenly, there was a cough behind them. It was Coach Song, “Baekhyun. Formalilites.”

His eyes widened as he moved towards his competitor, and he hugged him. The other guy patted his back, “You’re…really, fantastic, Byun.”

“You’re legendary. I can’t believe you turned the game around so easily,” Baekhyun’s English was better than Chanyeol’s.

The man laughed, “Well, I mean…” He smiled cheekily and looked at Chanyeol, “It’s the first time I don’t feel  _ bitter  _ about losing, because I feel like I was fighting against three people.”

Baekhyun’s hand was on his stomach. He blushed a little, “You’re really tall though. You can make up for two people…easily.”

The guy didn’t say anything at first, “You’ll have to win the Olympics now, Byun, so that they say I was defeated by an Olympic Champion. You got it?”

He nodded, “I’ll try my best.”

“I’ll be cheering for you.”

It was enough. They parted. 

And then things quickened up. Baekhyun stood there with the trophy in his hand and the medal on his chest. Kyungsoo introduced him to Jongin, Junmyeon’s younger brother that he was ‘friends’ with and Baekhyun couldn’t help but think that the arrows had landed in the right spots.

Kyungsoo and Jongin were there. Minseok, Junmyeon and Coach Song were there. Yee hun and Chaeyoung were there, too. Mr. Ah, his psychiatrist and his wife, Mrs. Ah, his pregnancy doctor were both present, smiling at him proudly. Yixing, Sehun and Jongdae were there, immensely proud. The Parks and the Byuns were there.

Chanyeol was there.

Haneul was there.

And Baekhyun…was there.

Yellow surrounded him. He was proud, he was happy, and he had risen up from the dark night, like the sun.

All the puzzle pieces fit together. For once, all the arrows had hit the right spots.

He stood there, feeling like he was dreaming.

“You’re not,” Chanyeol whispered to him, “Because if you are, then I’m dreaming the same dream.”

“I want to bawl my eyes out for the next twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll sound like a psycho…but I won’t mind. I’ll join you.”

Baekhyun laughed and Chanyeol smiled, “Keep laughing, and talking. I love the red.”

“I think…I love the red too,” Baekhyun smiled beautifully, “I love this yellow…and I love you too.”

_ Oi, little bird, you’ve flown, And I’ve flown too, _

_ Across skies of colours, blue and yellow, and pink and gold _

_ Even then we find our way back to where we started, _

_ Back to each other…and we’re still flying _

_ In yellow, and blue, and purple…and  _ red. 


	7. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is near.

#  6

The skies were hues of yellow and white, like an old page. If his story was a book, then many pages had been flipped ever since he last stood there. In the past one year, he’d visited Chanyeol’s exhibition and cried over the beauty that was Phoenix. He had made love, fallen in love and experienced love. He’d found his Eomma again, through Yee Hun. His Eomma was now better. She had beaten cancer once again. He had also delivered his precious baby angel, Haneul, into this world. 

Haneul, the prettiest baby girl in the world. Chanyeol had been a great help, in fact she always went to the artist whenever Baekhyun would ask her to go to ‘Daddy'. Chanyeol loved her too. The paintings in the artist’s room now included their baby angel too. Not only that, Chanyeol was a very popular artist now. In only a year, his painting ‘Red’ and ‘Chanyeol’ and some other paintings had gained worldwide popularity. The painting ‘Little Bird’ and the attached poem had won hearts.

Baekhyun had also learned that it was Junmyeon that had spread the news about him. He hadn’t really been surprised - okay, he was lying. He remembered that he had choked after Kyungsoo had revealed the news, and Chanyeol legit had to pat his back for half an hour. Kyungsoo was happily dating Jongin. And Minseok and Chaeyoung ended up together - their shared passion and love for archery made their relationship sail smoothly. Not only that, Yixing was actually dating Yee-Hun. They’d formed a bond a year ago in the World Archery Championship and stayed in contact till then. Another ‘love’ that had bloomed was Jongdae and Sehun. Neither of them had even been gay initially, but they’d been wasted on Haneul’s birth and then...well, things happened. Jongdae also found a career in songwriting, and thus he left the Byun family.

And then there were his parents - they accepted that he won’t forgive him, but sometimes he'd call them up on holidays too - nothing too special, just a simple greeting. His mother had many regrets in her life. She had become the story of Orion and Artemis come to life.

Oh, and it was hard, but all the Parks finally softened up to him, which was relieving because Chanyeol was such a family man. 

So much had happened in one year. Baekhyun had left archery after World Archery Championships to take care of himself...and at one point, he’d decided to never come back to it. But then Chanyeol had made a special exhibition for him, one that showcased all his paintings of  _ him -  _ Red, Yellow, Thorns, Roses, Target, Bow, Arrow, Love, Smile, Little Bird...and so many endless more. Baekhyun remembered the day as if it were yesterday. He’d bawled his eyes out and he’d realized that he loved archery - not as a sport, not as a bragging right, not as...anything he’d thought…

  * But quite simply because it was his form of communication. An artist had art, and an archer had archery. 



As simple as that. He loved the sport. That was enough reason for him to continue. Not to mention his baby angel loved it when Papa was shooting. Her cheerful shrieks were the only sound in the otherwise still grounds. 

Everybody was holding their breath. The whole world was waiting. But Baekhyun didn’t care. He was surrounded by the smiles of his loved ones - Chanyeol and Haneul, Eomma, Kyungsoo and Jongin, Junmyeon, Minseok, Jongdae, Chae-young, Coach Song, Mr. and Mrs. Ah, Sehun, Yixing, their biological families - everybody was there, even his old competitors.

Baekhyun didn’t have to think twice. He could hear Chanyeol’s voice in his ear -  _ I love you Byun Baekhyun. I love Haneul. I love myself too.  _

He drew the arrow, tugged the string, pressed it to his lips and released it...into another tomorrow...into another colour - Haneul shrieked and Chanyeol smiled as the burst of yellow filled his vision again, for Haneul’s voice was yellow. 

They were happy. They were in love.

And the arrow stuck the bullseye.

Silence. The beautiful silence that spread throughout nature after a storm, where the flowers bloomed and skies were blue. 

The commentator shouted, “Byun Baekhyun is an Olympic winner!”

The crowd cheered but Baekhyun could only look at Chanyeol, holding Haneul in his hands. Haneul looked so much like him. He smiled, feeling tears slip by and immediately, Chanyeol was next to him, kissing him, tasting him, spinning him and then Haneul was in his hands. She was barely six months old, yet she was the nicest angel in the universe. 

Baekhyun couldn’t help but laugh and then cry. Oh, he was so happy. He was so happy that he could live for years and years feeding off this happiness and he was so in love.

The world wasn’t  _ realistic,  _ for if everything was realistic, none of this would’ve happened. Every moment between them was dreamy, lovely, pastels, and soft shades and colours and colours and colours. 

The world wasn’t  _ hopeless,  _ for if everything was hopeless, Baekhyun wouldn’t have stood here, holding the Olympic trophy. Chanyeol wouldn’t be one of the most sought after artists, and Haneul wouldn’t be there. Eomma wouldn’t be there. 

They had come so far that it was hard to trace back everything to its beginning. But maybe, Baekhyun and Chanyeol knew...it all started with a thorn and a rose. 

It all started with the red. 

_ Oi, little bird. _

_ Seems like you found a home, in the streets. _

_ Faraway from your house. _

_ There's happiness, and there's sadness, little bird _

_ And then there's you. Stuck in the vortex. _

_ Hold on to the grey for a little while, oi little bird _

_ One day, I swear I’d paint your world up in yellows _

_ And you’d spread your wings and fly _

_ And I? I’d fall back to the black,  _

_ Unless you’d let me hold on to you _

_ They call the medals the sign of your victory, little bird _

_ But I know that it’s not the gold around your neck _

_ But the pride in your eyes, and the smile on your face _

_ Oh dear, it’s the smile on your face _

_ I feel like I’m ebbing away, little bird _

_ You are becoming my existence, my dream, my fear _

_ Once again _

_ Little bird, why do you cage yourself in? _

_ Come out, show me what you are _

_ Let me heal your scars, _

_ Let me show you love _

_ Little bird, where did you run away? _

_ There’s nowhere to hide _

_ The fire is everywhere _

_ You have to breathe through the smoke _

_ Where are you, little bird? _

_ Little bird, I’m dancing on your commands _

_ I will never let you go _

__

_ Oi, little bird, there was anger in your eyes _

_ When you were pulled away and dragged _

_ And I didn’t say a word, let you go _

_ You screamed ‘Betrayal’ for it was only in the morning _

_ That I told you, ‘I’ll be there.’ _

_ I feel pathetic, but I knew you knew… _

_ You knew that this would happen _

_ That we were too broken to fix each other _

_ And that…that was what you were really afraid of. _

_ Little bird, I hurt you these days _

_ You’d said you’d take the brunt of my anger _

_ Yet you’re broken too _

_ So, I’ll try to piece up the sky once again _

_ And give you that perfect picture _

_ But if it falls once again _

_ …Then I’ll set you free _

_ The perfect sky fell, little bird _

_ And you set yourself free _

_ Into another cage _

__

_ The sun had risen. And the sun had set. _

_ Little bird, I am fine, _

_ I just hope you’re okay, too _

__

_ Oi little bird, you’ve seen the skies blue, ash and yellow, _

_ And you’ve held the weight of those cages for so long, _

_ You won’t find the kind of love you want at home, lil’ bird _

_ Not today, not tomorrow, not ever, you’ll just get hurt _

_ So, let go of your fears and take a leap, and I’ll follow _

_ I’ll lead you, show you love, you will never feel hollow _

_ Just take a leap, little bird, fly away…to tomorrow. _

_ Oi, little bird, you’ve flown, And I’ve flown too, _

_ Across skies of colours, blue and yellow, and pink and gold _

_ Even then we find our way back to where we started, _

_ Back to each other…and we’re still flying _

_ In yellow, and blue, and purple…and red. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have read till here, stick with me and read this too. 
> 
> I am Feather. I'm a teen. I wrote this. 
> 
> Believe me, if you were hurt by this, I was broken. I'd never known bliss like the sweet, sharp pain I got while writing this. Does that make me a masochist? Maybe. But this fiction brought me to life. Ever since, I started hitting the 'points' in Red, my life had changed drastically. I'd discovered my sexuality and I'd discovered that it doesn't matter that much and I've accepted myself. I've made life decisions, career decisions, gave up on some people, trusted some new ones. I've changed and I am changing for what I hope is the better. 
> 
> I got some hate on my Curious Cat - plenty of hate by one anon. I asked my followers not to speak against them for I was worried that the person got triggered by Red. I was right. The anon apologized and we had a talk. 
> 
> I mention this because I want to shed light on some important things in this story:
> 
> 1\. Archery: I love sports animes. I got injured playing basketball. Ever since then, I've developed a chronic pain in my ankles and given up on sports. But I love it a lot. I knew nothing about archery but a little research changed that for me. I also read this fic 'Kids on the Slope' I suppose you should read that. I loved it. 
> 
> 2\. Art: I don't know much about art, but while writing Chanyeol, I was able to find an artistic piece of myself. If you go to my Twitter, you'd see some paintings that I have made. I loved Chanyeol's rant about his preferred art styles. I love the painting that he mentioned. 
> 
> 3\. Music: I was able to discover so much great and new music, so thanks Red!
> 
> 4\. Korea: In the initial planning, I kinda went through all localities of Korea (google map) and learnt a lot about their country. Thanks again!
> 
> 5\. Colours: Legit, do I need to speak about this?
> 
> 6\. My writing style: I have found my strength and in my next works, I'll be tackling my weaknesses. 
> 
> 7\. Life: I've learnt lessons. I've written them. But they aren't mine. I'm merely a medium. You plan your characters and then you slave for them. I want to thank all the characters for being so interesting that I was bale to use great lines, which could have been a restraint with some normal average characters. 
> 
> There's a lot in this story but the most important thing according to me, is the message of love. Love for yourself, for others, for your work, for the world around you - it's like a wand. Whatever you do with it will result in magic. Call me naive, call me stupid, call me unrealistic, call me hopeless. I, too, with this motto of love shall paint my sky with colours. I shall raze the grey and rise above all, like a phoenix. I'll open the dusty locks of regrets and step out into this tomorrow. I'll take the leap. I'll hold the hand that saves me and I'll never let go of someone who needs me. I'll create my own music and I won't fill it with silence. 
> 
> Life's a beauty. That's what I've tried to shown. Baekhyun could have thrown it all away, he said he considered it an option, but then he would have lost the colours, the music, the tastes. You have senses - even if you have only one functionable one, it's still better than being senseless. Life is art. Appreciate it. 
> 
> I'll end this the moonlight. If you feel alone, there's always inanimate objects around you. Your living cells are made up by non living objects. You don't always need people. Bask in the moonlight, play in the air, the sun is yours, the world is yours. Claim it. Work hard. Love.   
> Never judge. Accept. Don't regret. Don't be Orion - a constant reminder. 
> 
> Instead, be the bright yellow. If you can't, be the pale silver-blue that nobody notices, but take pride in it. Whatever colour you are, even if it's white, realize the importance of it. 
> 
> Life is love. 
> 
> Just love. 
> 
> You're a coin thrown into this bigger mess that is life. There are things brighter than you, but that doesn't mean you are dull. Don't lose your shine. 
> 
> Love. 
> 
> Be happy. 
> 
> Thank you, 
> 
> Feather. 
> 
> Twitter - iexoeris.


	8. Special Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little this and a little that ^^

Hello, readers of this fic Red. I am overwhelmed by all the love you have given to this fic, whether it be in my CuriousCat, or my Twitter DMs, or here, or on Asian Fanfictions. I love you all for that. I had a few things to talk about? Well, not really but um, you know.

  1. I'll start by promoting my BaeconandEggs entry this year: Sol Omnibus Lucet (The Sun Shines on Everyone.) 



If writing Red was a challenge, SOL was a the hardest road. But I'm really proud of it, and I think it's my favourite work of mine. I really wanted to share it with you guys, so it would be great if you could read it. Here is the link:[ https://archiveofourown.org/works/24652357/chapters/59565247](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24652357/chapters/59565247)

2\. I've come to the realization that I can really not write tweetfics. I often end up abandoning them, so I just won't try more. For which, I'm sorry, but well, I'm planning about 8 fics right now. Isn't that cool? 

3\. I've thought I'd start blogging. So, if you want to read a blog (bc you're bored) then you could DM me on Twitter and I'll share it with you ^^.

4\. I'm quite concerned about everybody. The virus is almost boundless, and it's still very much alive. I hope you guys are okay, I really do. It's a quite dangerous times, and students, and parents - they must be really worried right now. But please, remember that everyone's going through the same thing, in different situations, so it's time to help each other and prioritize your health and survival and the health of your community over everything else. Okay? And this includes your mental health, too. Please feel free to reach out to me, if you need someone to talk to. Let's support each other.

5\. EXO-SC!!!!!! DID YOU GUYS CHECK IT OUT BECAUSE I DID AND IT WAS SO CUTE AND NICE AND ADORABLE AND I'M IN LOVE WITH IT. I CAN'T WAIT FOR MORE I'M GOING TO CRY I LOVE EXO-SC TT

6\. That's kind of all, I had to speak. It was really random, I know, but I just felt like I had to do this. So, be okay, and be nice, fine? My coping mechanism: Read fics, although I think blogging would help. Maybe. I'll let you guys know. 

Byeeee! Wear masks if you go out.


End file.
